


Poison

by AltheaG



Series: Confessions of a Recovering Squib [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bullying, F/M, Hogwarts, Jealousy, LGBTQ Character, M/M, Poison, Politics, Prejudice, Revenge, Squibs, Teenagers, power
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-23
Updated: 2014-10-27
Packaged: 2018-02-18 13:19:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 90,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2349824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AltheaG/pseuds/AltheaG
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>George Weasley-Chaucer can't possibly be Head Boy at Hogwarts. He barely has any magic at all! Oh wait, his father is an influential member of the wizarding world, and it doesn't hurt that his distant cousin is Headmaster. Now it starts to make a lot more sense, at least to most students at the ancient school. But when George is attacked in a ruthless, potentially fatal way, more serious problems arise for the young near-wizard than he ever could have imagined.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **A.N.: This is a sequel to “No One Special: A Squib’s Tale”. You might want to read Part One first, but I’ve provided the main details in this chapter, too. The main plot kicks off in chapter two, though there are some important details to remember for later. Thanks for reading! Leave your comments below!**

Just when I thought life was going to slow down…

It was shocking, the whole event. How I survived is a big mystery, because in reality, I probably shouldn’t even be here. I guess the gods have some further use for me in this world, so here I am, scars and all. Well, internal scars, not external.

Muggle playwright William Shakespeare wrote about the Roman Emperor, Julius Caesar, where he was conspired against and literally stabbed in the back by those closest to him. There was this snivelly guy called Cassius who engineered the whole thing, pretending to be Mr. Nice Guy to Caesar’s face and then…BAM! Just like that. OK, so I’m not trying to compare myself to a muggle Emperor or anything, but it’s just that I sort of know how the guy must have felt. “Et tu Brute? Then fall Caesar.” Grim last words.

Unlike Caesar, I really do have good friends whom I know would never stab me in the back. Most of my life, in fact, my friends sort of felt sorry for me—as the family Squib, back then anyway, I was the local charity case and no one wanted to mess with me. Fast forward a few years, to the discovery that in fact, I actually do possess some magic. A very little magic, but magic all the same. One big thing it did for me was to change my status in the wizarding world. No longer ring-fenced and protected like a endangered tree mouse, I’ve been thrust into the big, bad world to make it on my own. Talk about pressure.

At least I still have a year of school to finish before reality smacks me upside the head too much.

When you grow up so hovered over and fussed over as I was, it’s easy to get spoilt. Granted, my parents raised me to be strong and independent, but at the same time, because of my limitations in magic, they always kept an extra eye on me, just in case, as if I might break or something. The realisation that I’m a wizard, then, was a bit of a shock, and in truth, I’ve really struggled to adjust, especially now that I don’t have those same old protections from everyone around me. But even with all the attention and watchfulness of family and friends, there are just some things that you have to take on yourself.

Sometimes, no protection is possible.

* * * * *

It’s hard to imagine how big a place like St. Mungo's Hospital truly is, how vast a network of Healers and specialties it contains. When my Dad started working there almost twenty years ago, he had quickly settled himself into the challenges of the Incurables Ward—Dad’s first great success was to bring Frank Longbottom out of his twenty-one years of abject insanity. That was a real triumph. Dad is a medical genius, at least in my opinion.

Dad’s always one to experiment and be open to new things, including muggle remedies. When my older brother, Freddy was born, he had a lot of painful colic, and the only thing that worked for him was a muggle potion that Grandma Chaucer had recommended to Mum and Dad. Like most in the magical community, Mum was a bit reluctant to try anything remotely muggle, thinking it somehow inferior, but when she saw that it worked and that my brother felt better, she started to see things a little differently.

A very little.

You’d think that wizards and witches would make use of muggle remedies and other things from the muggle world. After all, it’s not like we’re living in some remote area of England or anything. Like so many, I live in London, so muggles are around me all the time. Why I don’t hang out with muggles more is something I really can’t explain. Maybe it’s peer pressure or something. I guess since I never went to school with muggles or grew up with muggle friends, it just doesn’t occur to me to mingle with muggles, though I know I could if I wanted to. I guess old prejudices die hard, as the saying goes.

We just don’t.

Anyway, thanks to Dad’s illustrious career as a Healer and Mum’s illustrious career as a sports journalist, my parents have done very well by us kids, even if we don’t dabble in muggle culture. Most families struggle to get by, especially when they have a lot of kids, like in my family. But Dad and Mum have always been able to provide for us five, beyond our wildest dreams.

Now don’t get me wrong, I mean, we’re not a bunch of snotty-nosed snobs like Mr. Malfoy was when he was growing up. Fortunately, he ended up raising kids that are amazingly down-to-earth, wise and even humble. I suppose my Dad had a good influence on Mr. Malfoy. After all, though we were raised with a lot of money and a really nice house and interesting vacations and all the best things, we were given a sense of gratitude for what we have. Dad and Mum both insisted on that from the start—Mum wouldn’t have put up with snootiness for five seconds.

My parents, Nigel and Ginny Weasley-Chaucer, had radically different upbringings. Dad is the only person known in the magical world to have become a wizard—raised as a muggle, he was run down by a lorry at the age of fifteen, left to die in the street. He lost lots of blood, had tons of broken bones and nearly died from his horrible injuries, so it was only thanks to blood donations and a lot of muggle surgery that his life was spared. Dad was left with a lot of bad scars and permanent pain in his back and legs, but he was also left with magical abilities—two of his blood donors were wizards. When you think about it, it is truly astounding. After all, you can’t acquire magical abilities—you’re just born with them. Dad’s entrance into the magical world is still the stuff of legend, and nobody knows for sure how his transformation happened.

Mum’s upbringing was much more mundane, much more normal. She’s the youngest of seven and the only girl, and the house where she grew up, affectionately called the Burrow, is the strangest, most bizarre, most wonderful place I’ve ever been. It’s like parts of the house were sort of stacked on top of the others randomly, without regard to architecture or logic or anything else. But every time I visit Grandma and Grandpa Weasley, I never get tired of exploring that old place, including the ghoul in the attic. Dad said that Mr. Weasley actually inherited the place from his father. I wonder who will inherit it from him?

Our place in London is massive—I guess it sort of needs to be, since we’re all getting older and need more space. Mum charmed all our bedrooms to make them bigger, and of course now that my sister, Lydia, is a teenager, she needs more space for all her shoes and handbags and jewelry and all that other junk that girls acquire. Freddy, on the other hand, needs more space to study his books and have a place to host all-night study sessions with his friends from St. Mungo’s.

It still hurts that he’s living out the dream I wanted for myself.

My best friend, Theo Scrimgeour, plans to enter a muggle profession, working with computers. He’s got it all planned out, and he even has a muggle girlfriend. Unlike most Squibs in our society, Theo has no intention of letting his lack of magical ability keep him from success in life, even though for him it means having to work outside of our world. In a way it’s sad, but I’m glad for Theo, too. I’m glad that he’s found something he likes and that he’s confident enough to step outside of what he’s used to.

Before I discovered my own magical abilities, I was starting to think about studying to be a muggle doctor—that was what my Dad wanted to do back when he was a muggle, before his accident, and since I couldn’t be a Healer, I figured I could at least still be in the medical profession, even if I had to leave the magical world to do it. But then, magic came along and really screwed up my life, making things far more complicated then I had ever imagined. I sort of have to create my own future now, but I don’t quite know what that future will be.

It’s hard growing up as a Squib when everyone around you is a witch or wizard. My parents always told me to be proud of myself and who I am. Dad would always say, “George, you have nothing to be ashamed of.” I knew that, of course, but then again, when everyone around me could do amazing feats of magic and I couldn’t even move a toothpick with magic, it was hard not to draw comparisons. And when my brother decided to become a Healer, the dream job I could never have, I nearly lost it.

On the other hand, there’s a simplicity to being a Squib, a sort of routine to the life because nobody expects anything much from you. I didn’t have to think about spells because I couldn’t work any spells, and I was always protected at school because wizards aren’t allowed to attack Squibs with magic, unless they want to get expelled. So when I found out that really could do magic, all those protections were gone and suddenly, I gained a new status I didn’t know how to handle, even though the magic I could do was pretty lame at best. Even now, as I look to start my seventh year at Hogwarts, I only have the abilities of a A-grade Third Year, and that’s not saying much.

This last school year, my whole life changed. Not only was I taken out of most of my classes, due to my strange situation of being a new but pathetically unpowerful wizard, but I also have become a bit of a social activist. I started to hear about the inequalities of Squib life, some of which I already knew from experience, but when I started to do research into wizard law regarding Squibs, I was so outraged and hurt that I started a political and social movement to try and get more rights for Squibs. With the help of my girlfriend, Paige Malfoy, as well as my other friends such as Althea Snape, Nick and Aidan Jessup as well as Theo, we started to see some success. By success, I mean that we were able to gain some visibility and to raise some public awareness about the inequality. The law remains the same, sadly.

In June, I went to Los Angeles with Dad, Freddy and my younger brother, Tom, to attend the conference for the International Confederation of Wizards—initially, Dad wanted me to address the whole convention, but I decided it was better to take a slower approach, and instead, Tom and I set up a booth at the convention so we could pass out materials and talk to witches and wizards one-on-one. It’s hard to know whether it was successful, but I remain hopeful.

I’m a little nervous about this year. Then again, I’m a little nervous about everything. The Headmaster, my distant cousin Severus Snape, appointed me Head Boy, the first one with deplorably substandard magic. Despite my fears, Severus assures me that this is what I need and that this is what the school needs, but I’m not so sure. After all, I’m a major stress case—I even have to take a special Lethargis potion in order to keep myself from getting severe anxiety attacks, so I’m a bit doubtful of Severus’ wisdom in this whole Head Boy thing. I just hope I can live up to my parents’ example—I come from a long line of Head Boys and Girls. My parents, my uncles Percy, Bill and Charlie were all Heads, as was my Aunt Hermione—OK, so she’s my aunt by marriage, but on the other hand, her husband, my uncle Ron, was Prefect.

One thing Severus—that is, Headmaster Snape—hasn’t told me is who the Head Girl is. All I knew was that I was supposed to report to Hogwarts the second week of August for a week-long orientation. Frankly, I was worried that people are going to be upset that someone like me was chosen as Head Boy.

“They’ll just have to deal with it,” Freddy told me a week later.

“But come on, I mean, I wasn’t even Prefect before!” I protested.

“So what? Neither was Dad!” Freddy replied.

“Yeah, and Dad mostly just scared people because he can do some really serious magic,” I shot back. It’s true. Dad did a binding charm on the whole school once in order to stop a potential student riot. He doesn’t like to talk about that much.

“I wonder who the Head Girl is?” Paige mused. She and I and Freddy and his new girlfriend, Sasha Shaklebolt sat at our favourite table at the Leaky Cauldron with Abraxas Malfoy and Aurora Snape. Sasha goes to school with Freddy, though she’s a bit older than he.

“I hope it’s not Jane Fowler!” Aurora crowed. “I hate that snippy little bitch.”

“What’s so bad about Jane?” I asked.

“Well first, she’s friends with Ellie,” Paige reminded me. Ellie Gray, my ex. Bad breakup. Lots of hurt feelings and bruised egos.

“Wait, is she that Ravenclaw girl with the long braids?” Freddy asked with a laugh.

“She goes out with Rob Dorsett,” Paige said. “Her father’s in Law Enforcement. Your uncle Ron is his superior officer.”

I groaned. “Great,” I muttered. I remembered the controversy when uncle Ron was made Commander over the more experienced Officer James Fowler. Maybe that’s why I never got to know Jane—she probably hated me so much that she never bothered to talk to me. Could be.

“But she’s not the only candidate, is she?” Abraxas asked. “There’s also Phoebe Nott.”

“I like Phoebe,” Paige said brightly.

“Her father was a Death Eater,” Sasha said, crinkling her delicate nose.

Paige shrugged. “So was mine,” she said diffidently. 

Aurora glared at her briefly, then laughed. “So was mine,” she confessed.

“But you all are proof that your parents’ mistakes didn’t condemn you,” I said.

Aurora laughed. “I guess that means you and Freddy will become psycho monsters, right?”

We all laughed at that.

“Phoebe and I went out once,” Freddy said. “To be honest, she’s pretty wild. I don’t know if her parents would approve of the stuff she gets up to with guys.”

“Are you confessing something, Freddo?” Abraxas asked, socking him in the arm.

Freddy blushed. “Maybe. Maybe not. I don’t kiss and tell.”

Sasha rolled her eyes. “Oh please, Freddy,” she said dramatically. “Guys always brag about stuff they’ve never done.”

“Nah, we just embellish,” Abraxas said. “Well, unless you’re like Saint George over here. He’s nearly as perfect as his old man!”

“Shut up, Malfoy,” I replied, a little stung by the comparison. As much as I love being compared to my Dad, it always makes me very self-conscious. We look almost identical, we have similar personalities, though I’m way more of a stress case than he ever was, and there’s no way that I will ever achieve the truly spectacular things my father had done. He’s amazing.

Thankfully just then, we were joined by Theo, Aidan and Nick, along with Althea Snape, just back from a long day’s shopping in Diagon Alley for new school supplies. They all threw their stuff down, ordered a butterbeer from the proprietor, and sat with us. I noticed that Althea and Nick held hands, fingers interlaced. Freddy noticed, too—I could tell by the smirk on his face.

“Hey, Chaucer,” Nick said enthusiastically, “I read in the paper today that you’re Head Boy! Congrats!”

“Your Dad’s a surprise a minute, Althea,” Theo said.

Althea grinned. “Yeah, Scrimgeour, and he’s appointed you as Head Girl!”

“Does that mean I have to take Polyjuice potion all year?” Theo shot back.

“No. I think Daddy’s worked out a spell to make the change permanent!” she said, laughing.

“So Thea, do you know who he’s appointed?” Paige asked.

“I have no idea!” Althea replied. “I wish I knew! But I do know that he made George’s brother, Tom, Prefect.”

Freddy laughed. “This will be the first time the Prefect is in detention more often than the rest of the students!”

“I heard Dorsett’s pissed,” Theo said. “When I was just in Flourish and Blott’s, his friend, Caldwell, was talking to Malachi Zabini about the newspaper story, and they were both using some pretty nasty terms to talk about you, George.”

“Why should Dorsett be so upset?” Abraxas wondered.

“Because he’s mister O-grade-on-everything, plus he’s been Prefect for two years plus he’s president of the Potions Club and he’s a wicked Quidditch player,” Althea said sourly.

“But he’s still Prefect, right?” Freddy asked.

“Yeah, I mean, he’s great at what he does,” Althea explained. “But you know how Ravenclaws get…”

“Hey!” Theo piped up defencively. We all laughed.

“Nothing personal, Theo!” Althea replied dryly. “After all, you can’t help it if you’re an insufferable know-it-all.”

Paige laughed. “Makes me glad I’m in Gryffindor.”

“Yeah,” Althea shot back, “all you have to do is worry about saving the world!”

“No, George’s Dad already did that!” Abraxas said.

Paige kissed me on the lips. “And now George gets to save the magically challenged!”

I didn’t like that comment, but I just laughed it off. Don’t get me wrong, I love my girlfriend very much—Paige Malfoy and I have seen each other through a lot, and I have nothing but great respect and love for her. At same time, I hate it when people make those kinds of comments about me. I don’t know, I mean, maybe I’m just being too serious. Theo is always telling me to lighten up. Still, when you’ve got Nigel Chaucer as your father and the famous Harry Potter as a close family friend and now you’ve been appointed Head Boy, it’s a lot of pressure.

My only hope was that whoever the Head Girl is, we’d make a good team. I didn’t know Jane or Phoebe much, though since Phoebe is in Slytherin with me, I knew her a little better. Most of my close friends at Hogwarts are Squibs, except for Paige and Althea—most of my classes were with Squibs and since Squibs are sort of over-protected at Hogwarts, I never mixed much with witches and wizards, at least not on an overly personal level. Of course, now that I’m Head Boy, I’ll need to know everyone, not just the magically challenged.

I just hope it will all work out for the best.


	2. The March for Justice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _We got nearly five hundred Squibs of all ages to march with us, plus a hundred or so witches and wizards who supported our cause. Abraxas had advertised the rally at his work—the Wizarding Social Welfare service, where he runs a homeless shelter and day center for the magically indigent. Word spread also through Theo and the Jessups, plus a few of our Squib friends from Hogwarts._
> 
> _The marchers held placards reading “JUSTICE FOR THE MAGICALLY CHALLENGED!” and “GIVE US OUR RIGHTS!” and “OUR VOTES SHOULD COUNT!” and my favourite, “I AM NOT A MAGICAL CREATURE!” We marched and chanted and sang freedom songs whilst all the shoppers and shopkeepers stood by and watched. Many of them cheered us as we went along, and many more frowned at us and even jeered at us._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A.N.: there are a lot of important details given in this chapter that will come back and become a big part of the story, so pay special attention to them!**

_**CHAUCER TO BE HEAD BOY  
But does he have what it takes to handle the job?** _

_By Aria Williamson  
Education Correspondent_

_It came as no surprise to many in the wizarding world when the appointment of George Weasley-Chaucer, 17, to the position of Head Boy at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry became known to this reporter. Weasley-Chaucer comes from a long line of former Head Boys and Girls, and his family is among the most prominent in the wizarding world. His father, Nigel Chaucer, is considered one of our world’s greatest heroes, and his mother, Ginny Weasley-Chaucer, plays a very important role in wizard culture as a writer and activist._

_This new appointment has stirred up controversy because, though Weasley-Chaucer is a wizard, it is well known that his abilities are extremely sub-par. In fact, he was considered magically challenged for most of his life, and he has not had the experience with the standard curriculum at Hogwarts. Furthermore, he was not Prefect, and while that is not necessarily a requirement to be Head Boy or Girl, the experience is invaluable._

_Thus, the public is left with questions of nepotism and cronyism, as the Headmaster, Professor Severus Snape, is a blood relative of Weasley-Chaucer and a close personal friend of the family. While the wizarding world certainly wishes him well and hopes for the best, it shall look upon this appointment with cautious optimism…_

* * * * *

I was stricken.

Mum and Dad might be used to being trashed by the _Daily Prophet_ , but I wasn’t. Up until now, the press had been fairly friendly towards me, especially when I was first raising awareness for Squib rights not so long ago. They gladly printed the press releases I sent to them and even printed a copy of our advert for two straight weeks. So why the ream job now?

I didn’t want to cry—that was for little kids, not for Head Boys or future Ministers for Magic.

“You didn’t expect that rag to be fair, did you?” Mum grumbled. She spooned more eggs onto my breakfast plate and mussed my hair.

“Maybe,” I confessed.

She gave me a little kiss on the forehead, then proceeded to shred the newspaper with her bare hands. “Well, consider this Life Lesson #1. Don’t trust the _Daily Prophet_.”

I scowled. “What’s Life Lesson #2?”

“Your mother will always be there for you.”

I love my Mum.

That night, Dad raged expectedly at the story in the paper, joined by Freddy, Mum and Lydia. Tom remained fairly quiet about it all, which didn’t surprise me these days. Tom’s very supportive of the family, but lately he’s a lot more about action than about words. None of us are sure where he gets that quality, since the rest of us are a bunch of loudmouths. Even my little brother, Will, is starting to get pretty mouthy these days, and he’s only five. Tom is the physical one in the family, the athlete—if he’s not skateboarding in the most dangerous ways he can conjure up, then he’s doing tricks on his broomstick or wrestling Freddy, even though Freddy is four years older. But Tom is ten times stronger, both physically and magically.

When the Malfoys and the Potters came over later that evening, there was more raging—Dad tries to keep it clean around us, but Mr. Malfoy doesn’t follow those sorts of rules. I don’t swear a lot, but the best swear words I know I learned from Mr. Malfoy, especially when he gets into one of his moods, which is fairly frequent. After a few minutes of enjoying the spectacle, Paige and I retreated to my room to mess about.

“Stay off that bed!” Mum called.

“Mum!” I laughed. I hate it when she embarrasses me like that. Parents.

“But if you can’t stay off the bed, use protection!” Mr. Malfoy called. He was serious, too.

“Daddy!” Paige giggled, pretending to be alarmed that he would dare to suggest something like that to his precious little princess. On the other hand, Mr. Malfoy was fairly notorious for some pretty bad behaviour back in the day, before he married his current wife. Luckily, Paige and Abraxas were more responsible than their father.

We stayed off the bed, but that didn’t stop us from a pretty intense snog session—after all, there’s nothing you can do on a bed that you can’t do off a bed. But we kept our morality intact for the most part—frankly, the idea of shagging my girlfriend when our parents were in the next room freaked me out more than a little. Plus, I’m a bit old-fashioned. I sort of like the idea of commitment, wedding rings, that sort of stuff. I can’t say that Freddy is so traditional. Mum doesn’t know that, of course.

Things should have calmed down a bit the next day, but that didn’t quite work out. No sooner had the supposed controversy of my appointment been splashed all over Britain then Dad came home with another major announcement. We knew it was serious when he had all of us, Will included, sit around the dining room table before dinner. He looked pretty grave, which made me worry all over again.

“Well,” Dad started, “I’ve just had news that Jude Rosen is stepping down as Chief of Staff at St. Mungo's.”

“Wow!” Mum exclaimed. “That’s a surprise! I thought he loved his post.”

“He’s been Chief for like twenty years, right?” Freddy asked.

“Almost. He became Chief around the time you were born, Freddy,” Dad replied.

“Oh yeah, after that whole Fowler thing,” Mum mused. But when Dad glared at her pretty fiercely, she blanched. I know something pretty awful happened back then, but they’ve never told us the whole story.

“What’s that?” Lydia asked. It was a simple question, but Dad’s fierce expression silenced her sharply. She gasped lightly.

“Anyway,” Dad went on, trying to lighten what had suddenly become a far too intense atmosphere, “now that Jude has stepped down, he’s asked…well, he’s asked me to take up the post. He’s recommending me to the Board of Governors.”

Silence.

“You? Chief of Staff?” Mum asked, more than a bit astounded.

“I know, it’s pretty crazy,” Dad started.

“No, it’s just…you’re only forty-one, I mean, you’re a bit young, aren’t you?” she replied.

“Age doesn’t matter, Mum,” Freddy said.

“But that’s part of my concern, to be honest,” Dad said. “I’ve mostly been in one area of expertise for most of my career, and I’ve never been an administrator. To tell you all the truth, I don’t like being an administrator.”

“But Dad,” Freddy said, “you’d be in charge of the future of the Healing Arts in Britain!”

Dad blushed. “That’s what worries me.”

“But think on it,” Freddy went on. “You’ve done some positive, really innovative things as a Healer! Look at what you did for Professor Longbottom’s father! No one would have given that man a second thought, but you did.”

“But that was as a Healer, Freddy,” Dad replied. “It was the damn administrators who tried to keep him sick. They were short-sighted and cowardly!”

I got Freddy’s point. “And you won’t be,” I said. “You can bring to the Healing Arts as a whole what you did for Mr. Longbottom! St. Mungo's needs someone progressive like you, Dad, not just the Incurables. You helped me to access my magic and you’ve done amazing things with potions over the years.”

“But I wouldn’t be with patients any more,” Dad pointed out. “At least not as much.”

“But you’d be creating new opportunities to make things better for all patients and all Healers,” Freddy said. “You’ll help new Healers like me to give the very best care.”

“I agree,” Lydia piped up.

“Do you?” Dad asked a quiet Tom.

Tom pondered for a moment, then smirked. “Well, if I’m going to keep doing Wronski Feints on my new broomstick, I’m going to need all the best medicine I can get!” Leave it to Tom to make a joke out of it.

“Well, Nigel?” Mum asked.

“Do you really think this would be good, Ginny?” he asked her. “Are you sure you’re okay with all this?”

“Remember what we agreed long ago? Team Weasley-Chaucer?” she said.

Dad nodded. “Alright then. I guess you’re looking at the new Chief of Staff.”

* * * * *

_**ANOTHER CHAUCER APPOINTMENT!  
Nigel Chaucer to be St. Mungo's Chief of Staff** _

_By Beth Mayo  
Cultural Editor_

_A mere two days since his son was appointed Head Boy at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Nigel Chaucer, 41, was appointed Chief of Staff of St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. Chief Jude Rosen, 68, made the sudden decision to step down from his long-held post for personal reasons, but not before he tapped Chaucer to replace him. The Board of Governors was quick to ratify the appointment, without question._

_Chaucer has been a successful and influential Healer for nearly twenty years, and indeed, his accomplishments are noteworthy. His first and perhaps most important case was the extraordinary work he did with Frank Longbottom, once believed to be hopelessly insane. It was through Chaucer’s innovative work with complimentary medicine that Longbottom has been able to regain much of his sanity back._

_Critics point to the fact that Rosen is a close personal friend of Chaucer’s, suggesting that it this rather than ability and experience that won Chaucer the post. Supporting this is the fact that Chaucer, while an experienced Healer, is relatively young and has no administrative experience beyond his brief stint at the Ministry of Magic back in 1998…_

* * * * *

It’s rare to see Dad get so furious. I half expected to see pillars of steam blow out of his ears like in a muggle cartoon. The last time I saw Dad get this angry was about a year ago, when I got mugged in a bad part of London. He nearly took off everyone’s head for that one.

“See?” he raged. “I knew these asses would pull something like this! To suggest that this is favouritism, oh! and that I did a STINT in the Ministry? A STINT? Are they kidding? Who is this stupid toe-rag anyway? She deserves to get her arse fired!”

“Nigel, why are you so shocked?” Mum asked, trying hard to mask a smirk at his expense. “They just flayed your own son, and they’ve certainly worked you over time and again.”

Lydia busied herself clearing the breakfast dishes—Tom rushed to help her out, but Freddy stayed put, listening carefully to the new argument.

“All my authority is totally compromised, and I haven’t even taken up the post yet! And for that matter, neither has George here! How is he supposed to be Head Boy when most of the students think he got the job because he’s Severus’ cousin?” Dad retorted. The man had a point.

Mum frowned at both of us. “You two are just going to have to prove yourselves. Come on, baby, I know you’re going to be just fine,” she said to him, giving his hair a little stroke. Dad’s starting to get a little silver at the temples, but Mum’s hair is just as red as ever. They gave each other a little kiss, which always makes me uncomfortable. No one likes to watch their parents have a snog. Freddy chuckled.

“That reminds me, George,” Dad said, turning to me. “You and I need to have a check-up. We need to reassess your Lethargis dosage, make sure it’s enough.”

“It’s okay, Dad,” I replied. “I’m fine.”

“Yeah, but you’re heading for a very stressful year,” he said, sounding very much like a Healer just then. “Even for the most even-tempered person, being Head Boy is pretty daunting, so for you, well, I’m concerned. Plus, you’re older now and you’ve grown a bit.”

“Do you think I need to take more?” I asked. He was freaking me out, to tell the truth.

“I think we need to keep our options open,” Dad replied. “I want to do an analysis of you and determine what you’ll need for the school year.”

When I was growing up, Dad was never my personal Healer—he always sent me to an old acquaintance, Amir Kharloubian. They don’t really get on much, but Kharloubian’s a great Healer, and he’s always kept me very healthy. But when I started on this Lethargis potion, Dad sort of took over my health care in order to monitor my symptoms and my magic. Thus, whenever I’m home, Dad is always around to fuss over me and make sure I’m eating right and getting exercise and taking my potion as prescribed, and not a drop less. Dad can be a bit controlling when he wants to be, though I guess it’s all for the best.

The bottle that contains the Lethargis potion is bright blue, almost like lapis. In the sunlight it sparkles brilliantly, and even in the dark it sort of stands out. My prescription is one drop in the morning, one mid-day and one at night, always in my pumpkin juice or tea. So far it’s worked great, but with new pressures mounting, I was sort of feeling the sting of my old anxiety. Maybe two drops would be better. But those are just details.

What was pressing on me more than anything wasn’t dosages or bottles, but exactly who the Head Girl was. I spent the next two weeks with Paige or with Tom or with Theo, but the thought of the Head Girl never left me. I worked on my Squib Rights project, prepared for an upcoming demonstration we were gong to have in Diagon Alley, created new materials for the campaign, wrote a speech for the demonstration, but the same issue nagged at me.

I was actually really excited about the upcoming demonstration, which we’d planned for quite some time. After the success of my trip to Los Angeles and the positive press we’d gotten a few weeks ago, we decided it was time for a little Squib visibility—happily, Theo, Nick, Aidan and their sister, June, were up for the adventure, and with the help of Abraxas Malfoy, we were able to pull together a march through Diagon Alley, ending at the front steps of the _Daily Prophet_ , where we would have a peaceful demonstration for Squib rights. I would make a speech, as would Aidan and a couple of other notable people. After all, if we were going to change the law, we had to have visibility.

Now if only the new Head Girl was a Squib, that would be perfect.

* * * * *

With my mother’s help and the help of Mr. Malfoy and Mrs. Potter, the press was alerted—we got everyone: _Witch Weekly_ , the _Portal_ , the _Quibbler_ , the _Daily Prophet_ , even _Quidditch World Weekly_ came, plus two American publications and three from France. We had about two dozen photographers and even more reporters taking notes of our activities that bright Saturday afternoon.

In all, we got nearly five hundred Squibs of all ages to march with us, plus a hundred or so witches and wizards who supported our cause. Abraxas had advertised the rally at his work—the Wizarding Social Welfare service, where he runs a homeless shelter and day center for the magically indigent. Word spread also through Theo and the Jessups, plus a few of our Squib friends from Hogwarts. The marchers held placards reading “JUSTICE FOR THE MAGICALLY CHALLENGED!” and “GIVE US OUR RIGHTS!” and “OUR VOTES SHOULD COUNT!” and my favourite, “I AM NOT A MAGICAL CREATURE!” We marched and chanted and sang freedom songs whilst all the shoppers and shopkeepers stood by and watched. Many of them cheered us as we went along, and many more frowned at us and even jeered at us.

Undaunted by the insults, I marched alongside Theo and Tom and Lydia and Abraxas and the Jessups and Paige. It felt so good to be out there doing this, knowing how much notoriety this would give us all—as the muggles say, there’s no such thing as bad press. Dad and Mum marched somewhere in the big crowd, as did the Malfoys, the Potters, my aunt Hermione and my uncle Bill—my family is a pretty liberal lot, so there were lots of us in the crowd.

When we passed by Weasleys Wizard Wheezes, run by my uncles Fred and George, they passed out Flower Flies—they look like black beans, but when you throw them up in the air, the velocity makes them burst open, sending out white daisies all over the place. With all of us throwing these Flower Flies in the air, Diagon Alley looked more like a meadow than a shopping district. They also proudly displayed our campaign posters on the windows of their shop, as did a few other retailers.

When we finally arrived at the steps of the _Daily Prophet_ , I faced the crowd, ready to speak. But then, some jerk on the sidelines made that nearly impossible.

“YOU’RE DESTROYING THE WIZARDING WORLD, YOU SPOILT BRAT!” the man shouted furiously.

The crowd instantly booed the man, and some people tried to jostle him out of the way, but the man resisted.

“HEY KID! GO BACK TO YOUR MANSION AND LEAVE THE WORLD ALONE!” he shouted. “I’M NOT LETTING MY LIFE BE RUN BY SQUIB TRASH!”

“Shut up, hater!” someone screamed at him. It sounded like my aunt Hermione.

“YOU WANT FREAK SQUIBS RUNNING THE WORLD?” he went on. “YOU OUGHT TO BE DRUMMED OUT OF THE MAGICAL WORLD, YOU PIECE OF SQUIB TRASH!”

I blanched when I saw my Dad lunge at the man, held back only by Mr. Malfoy and uncle Bill.

“Shut up about what you don’t know!” Dad bellowed at the man.

Paige nodded at me to start speaking, looking a bit desperate.

I pointed my wand at my throat. “Sonorus!” I said. Instantly, my voice grew loud, to my surprise. I worked a spell! Anyway… “No one is here to run the world or to ruin our society,” I began, hoping the stupid man would shut the hell up. “And furthermore, the magically challenged are not trash, sir! It’s your ignorant mindset that’s trash!”

When he tried to speak again, he got shouted down by the rest of the marchers who cheered my on loudly. I went on.

“As we all know, the law regarding the magically challenged is archaic, unfair and discriminatory. If you are magically challenged, you must pay a poll tax in order to vote. You must register with the Ministry any time you want to move, and despite the fact that most jobs in our world are closed to the magically challenged, you still need the approval of a witch or wizard to apply for welfare. And of course, most of the magically challenged wouldn’t need welfare in the first place if only the law would allow them to apply for jobs that require no magic, of which there are many. Yet, the magically challenged are barred from most professions, treated like lepers, hidden away in shame.”

Lots of booing and jeering from the marchers. I went on.

“These are new days in the Wizarding World, and it’s time for the law to catch up with reality. For years now, thanks to the revolutionary acts of Headmaster Severus Snape, the magically challenged have been able to attend Hogwarts and take special classes so that they are no longer alienated from their peers. But these people are now ready to enter the working world, and while they’ve found acceptance and affirmation at school, they have found nothing but coldness and hardness of heart from the world outside school. This is what must change.”

“DESTROYER!” some lady shouted at me. “ROT IN HELL, YOU STUPID BRAT! OUR SOCIETY IS JUST FINE AS IT IS AND IT DOESN’T NEED TO BE RUINED BY A BUNCH OF INEPT RETARDS!” More than a few people applauded her, but the marchers quickly shouted her down.

I decided to take advantage of her stupidity. “This is just the attitude that is keeping us back in the Dark Ages,” I retorted. The marchers cheered.

“JUSTICE! JUSTICE! JUSTICE!” they chanted.

“And we will not rest until we get that justice!” I shouted. “Do not rest! Do not relax! Flood each and every publication in our world and let your voice be heard! The magically challenged deserve to be treated with equality and with justice! This is the moment to act! This is the moment to fight for your rights!”

The marchers exploded with new cheers and applause and more singing and chanting. I could see my Dad in the audience, beaming at me, shaking hands with a lot of people excitedly. And I could see others nearby, throwing us looks of sheer hatred and resentment, like they wanted to see me dead or horribly injured or something.

I just don’t get some people.


	3. Head Boy Training

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _When I arrived in Severus’ office, he wasn’t there—that made me a bit nervous, only because he was so insistent that I not be a fraction of a second late. Typical Severus. I stood there stupidly by the fireplace, dusting myself off and hoping that he had only stepped out to use the restroom or something. Where else could he be?_
> 
> _But then, by the time I had finished shaking the last vestiges of coaldust from my robes, Severus, that is, Professor Snape, finally returned to the office…with the Head Girl. He saw my befuddled expression and smirked._
> 
> _“Once you’re done flexing your massive muscles, Chaucer,” he said silkily, “you might want to meet your new partner."_

When people gather together in large groups, you never know where the tide of emotion will carry you. Take Quidditch, for example. It’s as if the entire crowd experiences the same ups and downs at the same lightening speed as the players on the pitch, yells at the same bad calls, shouts for blood in unison if the opposing tem scores a point. No critical thinking, no independence, no individuality. Just pure, raw emotion. 

I saw some of the same thing at the demonstration, where both sides of the Squib rights issue sort of banded together as automatic rivals—no meaningful dialogue is possible in such an emotionally charged atmosphere like that. Then again, no one goes to a rally in order to sit down and have rational discussion. Rallys and demonstrations are times to shout and yell and get passionate, all for the cause. My hope was that our supporters had done their thinking on the issue ahead of time and did some further thinking afterward.

I can’t speak for our opponents. Bigots never cease to confound me.

There was only one scuffle during our demonstration that I heard about much later that day. That same guy who was shouting at us got into it with Mr. Jessup, and it was only when my uncle Bill intervened that they both put their wands away and stopped the fight.

Beyond that, the demonstration was a pretty huge success, as far as I was concerned. After I spoke to the crowd, Aidan gave a personal story of what his future would be like as a Squib—a few people cried as he talked about the challenges he faced to find even a simple job because of so many legal restrictions against him. The irony of the whole thing is what kills me. My magic is notoriously horrible, totally substandard, yet because I have the status as a wizard, I can do almost anything I want, so long as the job doesn’t require much magic. And nobody can tell me where to live or which door of the Ministry I can enter. It’s not fair.

For now, however, it seemed like the vast majority of those watching the demonstration were in favour of our goals, so it was that sense of accomplishment that I took with me the rest of the day, rather than the insults from a few soreheads. I was even more excited when reporters from most of the publications present asked me for a statement—and they took my picture, along with Aidan’s. That was fun.

The next day, the _Daily Prophet_ carried the story of the demonstration…on the back page. What? The back page? After all that publicity we thought we’d gotten, they slapped us on the back page? And with no picture at all! Just a half of a very narrow column, written in the smallest type imaginable, and mostly focused on the protesters who shouted insults at us, as if they were the ones on the right side of the issue. Here’s the very worst part of the very brief article:

_What some who grasp for power don’t always realise is that some things are in place for a reason. We may not like all our laws in the wizarding world, but that doesn’t mean they are bad laws. But when a wizard grows up with privilege and prominence and is used to having everything handed to him without question, that lesson is not always taught._

“So I’m just a spoilt brat having a temper tantrum?” I spat, slamming down the paper.

Mum scowled. “Don’t let that rag get you down, baby,” she said. “Keep at it. What you have to is to find a way of getting from the back page to the front page. Then the Ministry will take you seriously.”

I knew she was right, but it hurt all the same. Like my Dad, I’m too idealistic for my own good—I get let down so easily because I have this way of ignoring people’s bad side. Freddy used to nag me about that all the time, telling me I put people up on pedestals too much. He’s right, of course, but it’s hard to change. I like to think of myself as being strong enough to hold onto my ideals, no matter how shitty people can sometimes be. Does that make me clueless?

Mum mussed my hair and vanished the paper from the breakfast table. “Remember, the _Daily Prophet_ ’s only one publication. My guess is that the _Portal_ will be a lot more favourable towards you.”

As it turned out, Mum was right. That Tuesday, in fact, they put the photograph of me and Aidan on the front cover of the magazine, and the article about the demonstration was the featured story of the week. The article was great—it included several pictures of the marchers, and it also featured the full text of my speech and Aidan’s speech. It also featured the interview after the demonstration, plus commentary from Kingsley Shaklebolt, Hannah Abbot, Alphonsus Scrimgeour and even a comment from the current Supreme Mugwump, Chad Drake.

Lydia laughed. “The Mugwump’s name is Chad?”

“You met him in Los Angeles, right?” Mum asked me.

“Briefly, yeah. Plus his assistant took some of our materials, so I guess he knows about our campaign,” I replied, buttering my bagel. Lydia toasted it for me just right—golden brown. She’s the only one in the family who knows how to cook.

By that weekend, the other publications had also printed articles about the demonstration. _The Quibbler_ included a conspiracy theory, stating that the Minister for Magic was suppressing a valuable potion that could give Squibs magic. Dad said that was a load of tosh. _Witch Weekly_ ’s article was a little more interesting, even a bit salacious. When Lydia looked at the photographs of me and Aidan, she howled with laughter.

“Oh my gods, George!” she crowed. “I think they added some extra muscles to your chest!”

“What?” I exclaimed, snatching the magazine from her. 

It was true, well, sort of. When I looked at myself in the photograph, I actually gasped. I don’t know what angle they used, but it really did make me look like I was some sort of sex god or something—I’m not, seriously! I know I’m alright looking, since I look just like my Dad, but I’m not some fit wizard hottie or anything. The narration of the article was all about my youth, my brown hair my…

“…sparkling, intelligent eyes!” Lydia squealed, grabbing the magazine from me. “Look, it says you’ve got ‘a certain, quiet wisdom in his intense, handsome features, a strong drive for justice and…’”

But I snatched the magazine back again. “Stop!” I hollered. Lydia and Tom dissolved into a fit of giggles. 

I prayed that Theo would never see that article, but who was I kidding? And when Paige and her father came over for dinner that night, I never thought I’d hear the end of it from Mr. Malfoy. Dad was just about to lay him out, I think.

“You know you’re never going to live that down, right?” Paige said, laughing.

“Now don’t be jealous, honey,” Mr. Malfoy said to her. “I know it’s hard, but you’ll just have to understand that half the female population will now want to jump your boyfriend’s bones.”

Paige laughed so hard she spewed out a mouthful of pumpkin juice—happily, it landed all over that stupid magazine. 

“You’re so full of shit, Draco,” Dad groused.

“I’m telling you, Nigel,” Mr. Malfoy shot back, “you’d better dust off that old chastity belt and make sure George is strapped in nice and tight!”

Tom doubled over with laughter, pounding the dinner table with his fist. I turned about six shades of purple. All I could be grateful for by then was that my cousin Severus Snape wasn’t there. Knowing him, he’d make some snarky remark right in front of the whole school, and then it would become legendary. I wasn’t sure I could handle that sort of pressure.

That night, I took three drops of Lethargis, though I didn’t tell my Dad that. I’d never taken so much before, but I was so horrified and upset that I really needed it.

It’s not that I’m some sort of prude or anything. I don’t know. I guess I just want to live my life and be as inconspicuous as possible. Of course, I’ve made that pretty much impossible now, considering that I’m leading a movement to change wizard law. So much for obscurity.

* * * * *

The second week of August, I reported to Hogwarts for Head Boy orientation and of course, to meet the new Head Girl. For weeks, my friends and I had speculated about who it would be. Top candidates included Jane Fowler, Phoebe Nott, Nicolette Shaklebolt and Sian Finnegan. I knew Nicolette a little, mostly because her sister is Freddy’s girlfriend, and like her sister, she was in Gryffindor. Sian, another Gryffindor, is the most incredibly gorgeous female I have ever seen, which of course is no reason for her to be qualified as Head Girl. She’s half Irish, half Indian, with black hair, olive skin and green eyes. She’s also a fierce Quidditch player—Paige loves to brag to me about that, just to annoy me.

I arrived at Hogwarts via the Floo Network—our house is hooked up to Severus’ office since he and Dad visit so much. Unlike Mr. Malfoy, neither Dad nor Severus know how to apparate directly into Hogwarts. From what I understand, Mr. Malfoy has held onto that little secret all his life, not even telling Abraxas or Paige how to do it. I think it’s bloody dangerous being able to do something like that—who could ever count on privacy if Mr. Malfoy can just barge in on anyone at all, whenever he wanted? Thankfully, he doesn’t do that…as far as I know.

Anyway, when I arrived in Severus’ office, he wasn’t there—that made me a bit nervous, only because he was so insistent that I not be a fraction of a second late. Typical Severus. I stood there stupidly by the fireplace, dusting myself off and hoping that he had only stepped out to use the restroom or something. Where else could he be?

But then, by the time I had finished shaking the last vestiges of coaldust from my robes, Severus, that is, Professor Snape, finally returned to the office…with the Head Girl. He saw my befuddled expression and smirked.

“Once you’re done flexing your massive muscles, Chaucer,” he said silkily, “you might want to meet your new partner, Miss Jane Fowler.” Damn. He’d read the article.

Jane Fowler was tall, really athletic looking, severe and entirely humourless. I’m not the most jolly person in the world, but by comparison, Jane makes me look like a bloody court jester. Her black hair is parted down the center of her head and pulled into two, long, tight braids fastened at the bottom with black bands. She wears no makeup, she never smiles and I’ve never seen a stitch of jewelry on the girl—you’d think that her boyfriend would have gotten her a little necklace or something, but if he did, she sure didn’t wear it.

How does someone like Jane get a boyfriend? I suppose by sheer brute force. Amazing.

Anyway, we shook hands—hers felt sort of soft and clammy. Was she nervous? Could it be that Jane Fowler possessed emotion and girlish nerves? I hoped so.

“Hey, Jane, congrats,” I said, trying to be pleasant.

“Thank you, George,” she replied. Her voice was almost an alto, almost masculine. I had a sick feeling she could lay me out in a fight if she wanted to. It was funny because her boyfriend, Dorsett, was sort of preppy and blond and slender. Actually, he’s a bit of a pillock—I never liked him. I guess you never know what brings people together.

So then, she added this little zinger: “It’s such a pleasure to know that I earned this post through effort and study.” So there.

Professor Snape was quick to respond in his typical blunt way, thank the gods. “If you think, Miss Fowler, that Mr. Chaucer is anything less than eminently qualified for this post, then you are sorely mistaken.”

But Jane didn’t miss a beat. “I’m sure he is, Professor,” she replied respectfully. “As are many others.”

Professor Snape glared at her so fiercely that any normal person would have run screaming from the office—that’s his true art form. But Jane didn’t flinch once. I could see why he chose her. “You are quite wrong, in fact, Miss Fowler,” he said. “Am I to believe that you are unwilling to work with Mr. Chaucer this year? If that is the case, then I shall replace you today.”

That did the trick. “I would be very willing to work with anyone you appointed, sir, including Mr. Chaucer.”

“Then you will put this issue to rest. Is that understood?” he said sternly.

“Of course, sir,” she replied, cool as cream.

Onward to training.

* * * * *

We spent the rest of the first day taking a tour of the entire castle, and I mean the ENTIRE castle. That took forever! We went through every floor, every corridor, every tower, every passageway known to Professor Snape—we passed the silver room that Paige and I frequented late at night, and we also passed through a room some students call the Aquarium. It’s right under the Black Lake, and the ceiling of the room is transparent so you can see all the aquatic life over your head. That was pretty cool. Freddy and Abraxas used to sneak down there to drink sometimes.

One of the most important parts of the tour was our living quarters. It used to be that the Heads stayed in the dorms, like anyone else, but about fifteen years back, Professor Snape changed all that. He led us down to the dungeons, to Slytherin House, but instead of entering through the usual portrait-hole, he stopped at a black door right next to it. Pulling out a long silver key, he unlocked the door and led us inside.

“It used to be that the Heads slept in the same dorms with their housemates,” Professor Snape explained, “however, we decided years ago that this was an unacceptable arrangement, should an emergency arise in the middle of the night. Thus, it is crucial that all the Prefects have regular access to you.”

Jane nodded, jotting down a few things in her fussy little blue scroll. Professor Snape let us look about at the smallish room, which was nothing to speak of. It had a round table at one end, with a few chairs around it, a settee and coffee table, and a small hearth on the opposite wall. 

“This is a multi-purpose room,” Professor Snape explained. “As Heads, you will hold meetings with the Prefects in this room—Miss Fowler, your rooms in Ravenclaw are the same as this one—the settee provides a comfortable setting when you need to counsel students or Prefects.”

“That’s really cool,” I commented.

“Well it’s fairly obvious, isn’t it?” Jane sneered. “It’s just practical.”

Professor Snape briefly scowled, but continued the tour, now opening the door next to the table. We peered through into the Slytherin common room.

“Wow! So I’m not totally cut off, right?” I asked.

“Precisely,” Professor Snape replied. “I am sure, Miss Fowler, that you appreciate the practicality of the arrangement, do you not?”

“Naturally, sir,” she answered smoothly.

“Well that’s a relief. I’d hate for you to see anything other than rank pragmatism in anything,” he sniped. I really love my cousin sometimes. “Now then, your actual sleeping quarters are through this other door.”

We all stepped inside my little bedroom—it was pretty plain, with just a bed, a dresser, a wardrobe, a nightstand and a chair. It wasn’t a big four-poster unlike in the dorms, but at least I’d have privacy.

“Again, Miss Fowler, your room looks just the same. You both are free to personalise your rooms as you wish, but again, this arrangement is to offer you privacy but to keep you accessible to the Prefects. Are there any questions?”

No questions. And no more snide remarks from Jane.

Jane and I talked little, at least to each other, for the next couple of days. Granted, Professor Snape was giving us a lot of rules and regulations and lecturing us on when to take or give House points, how to put people into detention and even how to break up fights. I bet Jane would have no problem with that duty. Professor Snape also talked to us about the hierarchy of Prefects—Seventh Year Prefects oversaw the younger ones in their own houses and reported to me and Jane. He also talked to us about protocol and diplomacy.

“It is vital that you do not let your power go to your heads,” he lectured.

Jane grunted audibly, throwing me a quick, rather nasty glance.

“You will find that it is best to let the Prefects take charge of their own duties and only to interfere when they ask or when you see that you must. That keeps everyone happy and it makes your own life less stressful.”

“What if we have to put a Prefect into detention?” I asked.

“Like your brother?” Jane muttered _sotto voce_.

“Should you see a Prefect breaking the school rules, you should send them directly to me,” Professor Snape replied, ignoring Jane’s little hissy fit. “It is not for you to put them into detention because that compromises your relationship. You will quickly discover as Heads that you will rely on the strength of those relationships if you are to do your job correctly. There must be an atmosphere of trust and mutual respect. Is that clear, Miss Fowler?”

Jane nodded. “Of course, sir,” she said in a snippy little voice. I could see why Aurora hated her so much, but I had to try and at least get along with Jane. I didn’t have to like her.

By the end of the week, we had trained, toured, role-played and become fully prepared to tackle just about any crisis that a Hogwarts student might encounter. Had I known just the sort of crisis that would arise that very term, I might have changed my opinion, but as it was, I was ready. We ended our training, blithely returning to our families and our homes, totally ignorant of any serious trouble that might happen, beyond dungbombs and skateboarding accidents. Jane took the Floo Network first—Professor Snape…that is, Severus, held me back a moment.

“She’s a real piece of work, isn’t she?” he commented bitterly.

I sighed. “We’ll be okay,” I replied, trying to be hopeful.

“I’m sorry about this, Chaucer, but she really is the best candidate. She can be an obnoxious drone at times, but she’s an enforcer, too. Miss Fowler will be an extremely valuable ally for you this year, once you get used to her.”

“That should take some time!” I replied. “I hope I’m used to her by the time we sit our exams!”

Severus raised an eyebrow. “You got used to me. If you can handle me, I think you should be able to handle Jane Fowler.”

“Do you think she hates me?”

“Yes. But she’ll play by the rules. People like her always do. Had I suspected anything about her, I never would have appointed her. She is very expendable, whereas you are not, so if there’s a problem, she’ll be the one to go, not you.”

“Well I don’t want that to happen. I guess I’ll just have to be nice and do my best, right?”

“Just be as commanding as you were at that demonstration and she might actually start to respect you, Chaucer.” Severus smirked. “But I’d play down those sparkling eyes a bit if I were you.”

I turned purple all over again.

“You coming for dinner tonight, sir?” I asked, eager to change the subject.

“My wife is out of town but Althea, Nigel Brian and I will be along at half seven.”

I laughed. “I’ll try not to sparkle so much then. I don’t want to get Nigel Brian upset.”

Severus grunted at that. “My son upset by sparkling? It would be a miracle for him even to notice a single glint!”


	4. The Zap that Changed the World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _A couple of years ago, before my magic was sort of half working, The Quibbler published an article about how a thirty-five year old Squib from Cheshire was able to do magic after being electrocuted by her curling iron._
> 
> _“I remember that article,” Lydia laughed. She was just putting the finishing touches on my welcome home dinner while I sat on a barstool and watched._
> 
> _“Dad was the only one not laughing at the article,” Lydia remembered._
> 
> _“Yeah, because he was probably horrified.” I stole a carrot from her vegetable platter._
> 
> _“I think he was tempted,” she said._
> 
> _“To what?” That sounded odd._
> 
> _Lydia pushed a red lock of hair out of her eyes and smirked. “To try it on you.”_
> 
> _“That’s crazy! Dad would never do that!”_

Luna Potter’s father is extremely strange, nearly as strange as Luna. He runs this magazine called _The Quibbler_ , notorious for wild tales of conspiracies, nargle attacks and the ever famous crumple-horned snorkack, a creature no one has ever seen. Of course, they’ve never seen it because it doesn’t exist, except in Mr. Lovegood’s fertile imagination. A couple of years ago, before my magic was sort of half working, Lovegood published an article about how a thirty-five year old Squib from Cheshire was able to do magic after being electrocuted by her curling iron.

“I remember that article,” Lydia laughed. She was just putting the finishing touches on my welcome home dinner while I sat on a barstool and watched.

My parents are noble, intelligent, charismatic and successful and just about everything…except cookery. Mum’s few attempts at making anything beyond a green salad usually results in stomachaches and lots of antacids, and Dad, well, we just won’t talk about that. He’s very talented at getting great take-away. Lydia had spent all day making the most amazing lamb stew, homemade croissants and a perfect salad, so as we talked, she was just dusting the stew with a bit of garlic powder and adding some coconut milk. I never would have thought of that. Where do you even get coconut milk?

“Dad was the only one not laughing at the article,” Lydia remembered.

“Yeah, because he was probably horrified.” I stole a carrot from her vegetable platter.

“I think he was tempted,” she said.

“To what?” That sounded odd.

Lydia pushed a red lock of hair out of her eyes and smirked. “To try it on you.”

“That’s crazy! Dad would never do that!”

She shrugged. “I don’t know, I mean, he had that look in his eye, you know?”

I knew that look. Whenever Dad got on a new idea he got this sort of hungry look in his eyes. Mum gets nervous when Dad looks like that, and more often than not, it leads to some pretty spectacular arguments between them.

“Well I’m not about to get myself electrocuted for anything,” I said, stealing another carrot. “Especially not over something in that tabloid!”

“George, no more carrots! Leave some for the party!”

Dad came home early from St. Mungo's that day, eager to celebrate my homecoming. Frankly, I think my becoming Head Boy made him kind of nostalgic. After all, Freddy wasn’t even Prefect, and now, Dad had me as Head Boy as well as Tom as a new Prefect. I think he was pretty excited. Lydia rushed to greet him at the front door—I stole another carrot before I followed her. That one didn’t taste as good as the others.

“Daddy!” she crowed, grabbing his briefcase and throwing her arms around his neck. Dad picked her up and spun her around a little.

“Hey, Head Boy!” Dad said, grinning from ear to ear at the sight of me.

“George thinks you’re going to electrocute him!” Lydia teased.

“Only if you burn down Hogwarts,” Dad joked back.

“No worries there,” I said. “I can’t even work the Lumos spell quite right.”

Fortunately, we got to drop the subject right away, as Mum and Will arrived home right after Dad, both armed with groceries and other packages. Will ran to me and put his little arms around my leg. I squatted down and picked him up—he was really getting heavy. I set him back down and tickled him—Will squealed and giggled and rolled around on the floor.

Mum gave me a little hug. “How was training?” she asked, giving me a kiss on the cheek.

“Extremely thorough,” I replied.

“I think it’s so great that Severus does it this way. When I was Head Girl, we got the rules and just sort of started. I heard you have your own room!”

“Lucky!” Lydia said, disappearing back into the kitchen. The stew smelled like heaven.

The Snapes and the Malfoys arrived as promised, right on time. Actually, the Malfoys were about fifteen minutes late, but the Snapes were right on time. Typical. I hadn’t seen Nigel Brian Snape in a while. He’s a year older than me, and when we were at school he spent most of his time in the library or with his intellectual friends. He might have been named after my Dad, but they’re nothing alike.

These days, he was looking to start at the Ministry, working in the Department of Mysteries. Nigel Brian was a bit young to be an Unspeakable, but he was one of those people who was sort of born old. Even now, he had this sort of stoic look on his lean, sallow face. Like his father, Nigel Brian had jet black hair, though his was cut short and smoothed down neatly on both sides of his head. But like his mother, he had pale blue eyes, making him look exotic, almost handsome. Almost. To say Nigel Brian was serious is an understatement. He makes his father look like my Weasley uncles, to be honest.

But I liked Nigel Brian, despite his sort of dour personality. There was an integrity he possessed that made him far more human than Jane Fowler could ever be. Where Jane was all about rules and regulations, Nigel Brian could always see the larger picture of any situation, giving him a level of wisdom that Jane could only dream of having. Mr. Malfoy loved teasing him.

“So, Nige,” Mr. Malfoy said to him, his fourth cognac in hand, “how are you going to make the magically derelict like George here turn into wandless freaks like Tom?”

Tom laughed. Severus stifled a smirk, but waited patiently for his son’s response, knowing very well that Nigel Brian would have a response. He always had a response.

“Magic is governed by the emotions, but it also is tied to the energy of the body and the atmosphere,” Nigel Brian replied.

“Hey, maybe we really should electrocute George!” Lydia laughed.

Nigel Brian raised an eyebrow, exactly like his father would. “Maybe we should,” he said simply. “There is a muggle method called Shock Therapy which is administered to maniacs, in order to calm their brain waves.”

“Whoa!” I cried. “I’m a madman?”

“You’re a Weasley, big bro,” Tom said, laughing. “Of course you’re a madman!”

Nigel Brian went on, unphased. “While Shock Therapy can be abused or overdone, the basic principles are sound,” he lectured. “Muggles also use electricity to help those having heart attacks. The defibrillator helps the heart’s electrical impulses rearrange themselves properly. It saves lives.”

“My heart’s fine,” I said.

“But your magic isn’t,” Nigel Brian retorted. Geez, he really sounded like his father sometimes. “It could be that a moderate dose of electricity could restore the magical energy in your body so that it works properly. Since your magic was never used for so many years, it’s likely that your impulses are improperly configured, so to speak…”

Dad sat up in his chair, that hungry look in his eyes. “…and a good jolt should put it right!”

Now Mum sat up, but her eyes looked angry, not hungry. “Nigel! You can’t possibly be serious! You are not going to electrocute my son!”

“It’s a fascinating theory, Gin,” Dad said, his eyes growing hungrier by the minute. Mum glared at him.

“You would risk your son’s health for a theory?” she snapped.

“I’m not saying I’m going to do anything, Ginny!” he snapped back. 

Uh oh. 

I know what that meant. I bit my lip and prayed that someone would change the subject. No one did, and in fact it got even worse.

“But it is worth looking into,” Nigel Brian said, sounding very professorial. “You would need to assess what voltage would be best for George and…”

“Alright, I think that’s enough, son,” Severus finally said, seeing my mother’s horrified expression. “Though I shall ponder the wonders of electricity the next time that a student is caught out of bounds on a Friday night.” He gave me an almost imperceptible wink. “Perhaps we should try it out on Miss Fowler, just to be sure?”

I laughed, but Mum looked appalled. Dad turned white.

“Fowler?” Dad exclaimed. “Which Fowler?”

“Jane Fowler,” I said.

“Not her!” Lydia cried. “She’s horrible!”

I couldn’t exactly disagree.

“Miss Fowler is the daughter of Officer James Fowler,” Severus explained. “Not the other one.”

“What other one?” Tom asked.

Dad, Mum, Severus and Mr. Malfoy groaned in unison.

“Long story,” Mr. Malfoy said gravely. “Past history.”

“What is it?” Tom persisted.

“Another time, Tom,” Mum said. “Not when we’re celebrating.”

Tom grinned. “Does that mean we can electrocute George now?” he joked.

“You know, George,” Mr. Malfoy said, “if Fowler pisses you off enough, you just might have enough magic in you to pass your NEWT’s.”

“That would take a miracle!” I replied.

* * * * *

Dad still had that hungry look the next morning. I gulped.

With two weeks of the summer holiday left, I hoped to spend most of it with Paige, taking long, extremely romantic walks around the massive grounds at Malfoy Manor. I also planned to work on the next stage of the campaign, which involved an article for whatever publication would print it, and a new round of posters and materials. Now that we had photographs from the demonstration, it was time to update everything.

I received a pleasant surprise one evening at dinner, not long after that whole discussion of electric shocks. Freddy and Sasha were taking a break from studying each other’s anatomy in Freddy’s room, and all of us were starving for whatever Lydia was conjuring up in the kitchen. It smelled like pizza. As we waited and salivated, we sat around the dining room table, just chatting. And then, Sasha dropped a bombshell.

“So I was talking to Dad…” That’s Kingsley Shaklebolt, retired Minister for Magic and current Unspeakable. “…and he told me that the Ministry might be getting a committee together to review the laws regarding the magically challenged. He’s pushing for it to happen.”

“What?” I exclaimed. “Are you bloody serious?”

“You never told me that,” Freddy said.

“He only just told me yesterday,” Sasha replied. “OK, so this won’t happen for a while, but you might want to get yourself ready to testify before the committee.”

“Is that what he said?” I asked.

“Not in so many words,” she said. “But that’s usually how it works. Remember when your father changed wizard law regarding attacks against muggles?”

“During the Taylor crisis, right?” Freddy noted. “Right after that Voldemort guy was killed?”

“Dad told me that your father saw a need for the law to change, so he put it before the committee and they voted to change it,” Sasha explained. “He’s been really impressed with your leadership, George.”

“He was at the rally, right?” Freddy asked.

“He gave a statement to the _Daily Prophet_ ,” she said.

“Which they didn’t bloody use,” I grumbled.

“No, but you saw how many did,” she retorted. “Anyway, I’m just saying that it’s looking good for you all, so just be ready to speak up.”

“That’s awesome!” Freddy exclaimed. He kicked me under the table.

Good news always makes food taste better, and when it’s food made by my sister, it’s almost a divine experience. Not only did Lydia make pizza, but antipasto and this cheesy garlic bread that almost melts on your tongue. As good as the food is at Hogwarts, it’s nothing to my sister’s culinary magic.

News on the medical front was a bit less exciting. OK, a lot less exciting, at least at first. Dad had me come to St. Mungo's for my regular checkup, and then he gave me my new prescription for Lethargis—two drops in the morning, two at night, none during the day. He also gave me a stronger formula, to keep the anxiety way for longer periods of time. Knowing I was going to have to work with the likes of Jane Fowler made me appreciate the new potion.

You probably think I’m some drug addict or mental patient or something. When I take Lethargis, it just sort of smoothes everything out, takes away the sting of anxiety that used to make me sick to my stomach more often than not. Rather than knocking me out like a tranquilser, Lethargis makes me focus myself in a calm manner, rather than getting all flustered. I’ve lived with it now for a year and a half, and it’s changed my life.

So this made me think again about electrocution. What if there was something to it after all? Doesn’t that sound awful?

I know it sounds totally crazy and barbaric, but then again… To me, it’s amazing what potions can do to change ones life for the better. I’ve experienced that firsthand, and so have countless other witches and wizards. I’m sure that muggles go through the same thing with their own potions. So why not try something sort of new and revolutionary? I’m not saying I was rushing off to get myself zapped or anything, but the more I thought about it, well, maybe it made a certain amount of sense. Dad was pleased with my new interest.

Mum was furious. I won’t go there with that screaming argument.

On the sly, then, Dad took me to his parents’ house in St. Luke, the town just next door to Hogwarts. Dad grew up there for sixteen years not knowing that he lived in the shadow of the huge castle. When we arrived at my Chaucer grandparents’ house no one was home.

“Good,” Dad whispered. Why he was whispering was beyond me, but oh well. He dashed upstairs for a moment, returning with a long bedsheet.

“Dad, what are you doing?” I asked, now very suspicious.

“Do you want to try something totally crazy?” he asked mischievously, like an excited nine year old.

“Wait, you don’t mean…” I knew what he meant.

“Come on, one zap!”

I laughed, unsure whether to be amused or afraid. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, I’m very serious.” Dad was always serious.

“Don’t you think we should maybe ask Mum first? Won’t it hurt?”

“Probably a little.” Dad forgets that most of us haven’t experienced horrifying pain like he has. I can’t bear to look at his scars. “No pain no gain, right?”

“What’s the sheet for?”

“To pull you away from the current.”

“If Mum finds out, Dad, she’ll bloody kill you!”

“Let me handle your mother, George. I’ve done some research on this, son. I thought about what Nigel Brian said and…”

“Dad! He’s eighteen!”

“I was eighteen when I brought down some very dark wizards!” he shot back. “Age is but a number.”

“What do I have to do?” I asked. I was getting more and more tempted, chastened only by my mortal dread of pain.

“I’m going to expose an electrical wire. You just have to touch it. The jolt will be sharp, but I’ll pull you off after five seconds. You’ll be fine.”

“And this is supposed to reorient my magic?”

“In theory.”

I laughed. “That’s what Nigel Brian said!”

“For theory to become law, you have to test it out. That’s the scientific method.”

I hate pain like nothing else. I’ve always been a big baby about pain, even though I spent the better part of my boyhood wrestling my brothers. But even then, once it got too painful, I’d stop and let them win. I don’t even like getting a paper cut, so the prospect of letting myself get electrocuted terrified me more than a little. Then again, if Dad and Nigel Brian were right and it really helped my magic, then wasn’t it worth the pain?

Alright. Time to be a man.

We went into the garage, where Dad carefully plugged the cord with the exposed wire into the socket. He cleared the area of any obstruction and anything potentially flammable. He also conjured a soft mat for me—I supposed I might fall back on the floor, so he wanted to cushion the landing.

“All you have to do is grab the wire,” Dad said. He sounded totally confident, which helped me relax. “I’ll do the rest.”

I couldn’t believe I was really going to do this. Was I out of my mind? Was this even legal? But never mind. The promise of better magic lay before me like a Siren, beckoning me to take hold of that wire despite reason or caution.

I did.

I’m pretty sure my heart stopped for just a second as that first hard snap of pain tore at me, rushing up my arm, then into my head, my chest, my other arm and out my toes. It was like I had become paralysed for a moment, overcome by the fire of the electrical charge. It burned and crackled and soon, I was sure my body would explode.

And then it was over. Using the sheet, Dad pulled me away, hard, letting me fall back into his arms, where he eased me to the mat. I couldn’t think for five minutes at least. All I could do was just lie there, listless, helpless, totally inert while my whole body trembled. Dad knelt next to me, constantly checking my eyes, feeling my forehead, stroking my hair as I finally regained some semblance of consciousness. He helped me sit up and handed me a conjured glass of pumpkin juice.

“You did just fine,” he said.

“Let’s never tell Mum,” I sighed, struggling to get my bearings.

Dad chuckled. “How do you feel?”

“Okay, I guess.”

“Different?”

“I…don’t know.” I guess I did feel sort of tingly and hot. Then again, I just got electrocuted, so maybe that was normal. Then again, I was a wizard, albeit a not so powerful one, so I suppose electricity has a different effect on me. Maybe Dad was right.

I looked around. Dad had already gotten rid of the exposed wire, and the moment I stood up on shaky legs, he vanished the mat, too. I think he was afraid he had gone way too far, and to be honest, I didn’t blame him. Most people might think he had just done something terrible to me, but after a few hours, I wasn’t so sure it was terrible.

It started that very night, right around bedtime. I went into the bathroom to brush my teeth and wash my face, and the moment I even thought about my toothbrush, it flew to me. Of course, it flew so fast it smacked me in the forehead, but still. That had NEVER happened to me before! Not even close! At best, I could summon my toothbrush if it was about two inches from my hand, and that’s no exaggeration.

Curious, I wanted to test this out again. I turned to face the shower and thought about turning it on. That very second, it turned on with such a blast I thought the showerhead would blow out of the wall!

“DAAAAAAD!!!”


	5. Out of Control!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The water raged like a pounding river, but I couldn’t seem to make it stop. On and on it blew out of the showerhead, making such a racket that finally, Tom, not my Dad, came to the rescue. He dashed around me while I stood there totally paralysed, and shut off the tap. Poor Tom was positively drenched!_
> 
> _He turned to face me, furious. “Why didn’t you turn it off, stupid?” he snapped. “Look at me!”_
> 
> _I thought about him being dry and with a stagger back, he was. Tom looked terrified, but all I could do was shrug._
> 
> _“What the hell was that, George?” he whispered._
> 
> _“I…”_
> 
> _Tom clapped his hand over his gaping mouth, his eyes bugged out wide._

The water raged like a pounding river, but I couldn’t seem to make it stop. On and on it blew out of the showerhead, making such a racket that finally, Tom, not my Dad, came to the rescue. He dashed around me while I stood there totally paralysed, and shut off the tap. Poor Tom was positively drenched!

He turned to face me, furious. “Why didn’t you turn it off, stupid?” he snapped. “Look at me!”

I thought about him being dry and with a stagger back, he was. Tom looked terrified, but all I could do was shrug.

“What the hell was that, George?” he whispered.

“I…”

Tom clapped his hand over his gaping mouth, his eyes bugged out wide. “Oh my gods! He did it, didn’t he?” Tom pretended to jerk as if he were being struck by lightening. I didn’t laugh.

“Tom, DON’T tell Mum!” I hissed. “You can’t tell anyone, not even Lydia!”

“She’s the last person I’d tell if you don’t want Mum knowing,” Tom replied, looking me over curiously. He broke out in a wide grin and laughed. “George! This is GREAT!”

“I don’t know if it is or not!”

Finally, Dad arrived, looking concerned and irritated. “What’s going on, in here? Why is the bathroom soaking wet?”

Tom socked me in the arm. “Go on, George, think it dry.”

Dad crinkled his nose. “What?”

Tom gave me a nod.

“Alright. Here goes,” I said, shrugging. They were going to find out, so I might as well. 

I faced the bathroom, thinking about it being dry and clean and perfectly ordered—I was going a bit overboard, I admit, but on the other hand, when the water dried up instantly and everything in the bathroom flew about and arranged itself in perfect order, Dad could barely contain himself. He threw his hands over his head and jumped up and down with glee!

“Holy shit!” he exclaimed, laughing and pulling me into a huge hug. “George! We did it!” But then he turned on Tom and glared at him. “If you say a word about this, Tom…”

“I won’t, Dad! I swear!” Tom shot back. “But you know she’s going to find out eventually.”

“Let me take care of it,” Dad said dangerously.

“But the second George thinks of stuff, he does magic! He doesn’t even use incantations!” Tom replied. “Say, Dad, why not pack him off to the Malfoys so he can hide?”

“We’re not packing him off to the Malfoys, Tom.” Dad thought a moment. “Alright, George, how would you like to spend a couple of days with Severus?”

“Ah come on!” I whined. “I’ll keep it in check, I swear! I won’t blow up the house or anything!”

Dad scowled. “Alright, George, what do you want for a midnight snack?” he asked, folding his arms.

“Chocolate cake.” The next thing I knew, a chocolate cake appeared on the counter. Dad quickly vanished it.

“Maybe this is just temporary,” he mused. “You know, like a temporary side effect to the treatment.”

Tom laughed. “You mean the shock treatment, right?” He jounced about wildly again, pretending to be struck with electricity.

“Tom, shut it!” I snapped. Thank the gods Mum was downstairs watching telly.

“George, Severus can help you control magic—he taught me some great methods, seriously. It should just take a couple of days. Please go? I’ll send him an owl straight away.”

I groaned dramatically but in the end I agreed, reluctantly. After all, I had planned on working on the campaign and helping Abraxas at the shelter the next day. Being cooped up with Severus Snape to work on magical self-control didn’t sound too fun. On the other hand, it was that or face the wrath of my mother, and that was the very last thing I wanted. Severus was scary enough on a good day, but my mother’s fury was unparalleled.

Reluctantly, I went to Hogwarts the next morning, and I actually apparated there on my own. My landing was so fast and hard that I stumbled forward and fell flat on my face outside the school gates. Nice arrival. Not surprisingly, Severus wasn’t too chuffed to see me again so soon. I guess he had plans, too.

“Can’t get enough of this place?” Severus sneered. “You really do need to get out more, Chaucer.”

I stood up and dusted myself off, but stopped, imagining my robes being pristine. And then they were. I even got a nice little crease along the sleeves, for extra show. Severus actually widened his eyes in what looked like shock—it’s never easy to figure out what he’s thinking or feeling on any given day.

“Your father says your magic is a bit out of control,” he added. “I see what he means. Just don’t imagine this place gone, please. I’m rather comfortable in my job.”

I scowled. “I’m starting to think that I shouldn’t imagine anything.”

“Just keep the pornographic thoughts at bay these days, alright? Until we get this under control. We can’t have naked ladies popping up all over the Great Hall.”

Wow. Wouldn’t that be amazing? OK, I know. Never mind. We went to Severus’ office where I sat in my usual chair—last term I spent more time than I ever wanted to in his office, in that hard wooden chair, toiling away fruitlessly at my formerly crappy magic and moaning over my worthless future. Now it was the opposite—I seemed to have so much magic that it was coming out of my mind or something. I don’t really know where it was coming from. All I knew is that it wouldn’t stop.

Severus sat on the edge of his desk and stared at me, scanning me carefully from head to toe, as if I were a prized turkey or something. “When your brother, Freddy, was a little boy, he started sparking out of his ears.”

“I’m not sparking,” I started. Tom sparked a little, too.

“Well obviously, however, though your father put you into this condition, he seems too busy and important to take care of the outcome himself, so he’s turned to me,” Severus went on. He was clearly put out by this—I decided not to argue with him. I felt too guilty about all this.

“I’m sorry about this, Severus,” I confessed.

“This is not your fault,” he replied. “To be honest, I’m a bit shocked—no pun intended—that your father would so such a thing to you. I wouldn’t be surprised if your mother threw Nigel out for this.”

“What?” I exclaimed, thoroughly scandalised. “She would never do that.”

“I’ve known your mother since she was eleven years old, George. She has never been shy about taking a very strong stand on things. Furthermore, your father has a long history of being somewhat of a maverick. Sometimes that has worked in his favour, but it has also gotten him into a certain amount of trouble, including with your mother.”

“But that’s crazy! I mean yeah, so it was kind of extreme what he did, I know, but it helped my magic!” I shot back rather defencively. There was no way my mother would throw my father out. They would argue over it, but divorce? Never.

“This could be a temporary phenomenon, George. You do realise this, do you not?”

“Well yeah, but for now, it doesn’t seem to be going away.”

“Thus this special session.” He sighed and motioned for me to stand. “The normal methods I would use to teach you to control the flow of your magic involve a wand. You simply must use your wand, George, all thoughts and imaginings aside.”

“But if I can do magic without one…”

“You can’t control it yet. It’s far too wild and corybantic, even worse than your father’s was. The wand is a conduit for your magic, and in your case where you are new to magic that actually works, you really do need to use your wand. Do you have it with you?”

I pulled it out of my robes. “Right here.” What does corybantic mean? I decided not to ask him. I hate it when he purposefully uses big words to make me feel stupid.

Severus took the wand from me and examined it carefully. My wand is mahogany, with a dragon heartstring core—it allegedly works, but then again, it helps when the wizard actually has some magic with it. When I first got the wand, I was full of hopes that I would finally be able to do magic, just as well as my brothers, but of course, that was a big disappointment. Maybe now…as long as I don’t blow the wand to bits accidentally or make it vanish permanently.

“Splendid wand, George,” he said, almost dreamlike. “This will serve you quite well. It should be able to stand up to your magic just fine.” And then he just had to add a jab at me. “After all, it’s barely used. Let us hope it can withstand the transcendent power of your sparkling eyes.”

Thanks for nothing. Jerk.

We spent the better part of the day working on centering my magic—that is, figuring out where I felt magic in my body. It turns out I feel it in my head more than anywhere, which I guess explains why my thoughts were making strange things happen.

“How long did you take in that current?” Severus asked.

“Five seconds,” I replied.

He rubbed his angular jawline with his long finger and pondered. “You have the craziest family history I’ve ever seen, George. Your father was a muggle, your brother does wandless magic and now there’s you. I want to say this is a temporary condition, quite frankly, but I just can’t be sure. You Chaucers are far too unpredictable, and it doesn’t help that you’re pureblooded on your Weasley side.”

Thus the wand waving lessons. Over the course of about ten grueling hours, I finally got the hand of feeling my magic course its way through my body so that it exited from my wand. My first attempts at working with the wand were nearly catastrophic. At one point, I actually smashed his massive desk to splinters. But after I recovered from the horror of what I had done, I imagined his desk put back together, papers in order, and _voila_! From splinters to splendour. I even put a little extra shine on the ormolu along the legs of the desk.

By the end of the next day, I was able to control the flow of my magic…a little. The next time I pointed my wand at Severus’ desk, I was able levitate it without destroying it.

“Well I sure feel safer now,” he quipped sourly. But I think I detected a hint of a grin. I took his snark as a compliment.

“Now if only I could control my imagination.”

Severus smirked. “Well, after all, you are seventeen. Nobody’s perfect. However, I suggest that before you return to school, you work on stemming the magical tide whenever you want something.”

“So like, I should feel the energy and sort of rein it in before I blow up the house?”

He nodded. “Precisely.”

But that was easier said than done. Imagine yourself having to hold back a very hungry, extremely ferocious lion from its prey, and that pretty much tells you just how nearly impossible it was for me to stem anything magical.

“Just try not to do magic,” Severus told me. How bizarre was that? I was supposed to be doing the opposite, except that now, my magic was so strong that I was becoming a hazard. “You know, George, there is something that perhaps would help you.”

“You mean a coma?”

Severus scowled. “No, moron, Occlumency.”

I opened my mouth to protest that I would have to be a powerful wizard to master the fine art of Occlumency, but then it struck me that I actually was a powerful wizard. I wanted to cry.

“How would that help?” I asked. “Isn’t that to keep people from penetrating your thoughts?”

“Very good, George,” he replied rather snidely. “And that takes a good amount of personal and magical control, doesn’t it?”

Oh yeah. It does. Stupid.

But me as an Occlumens? Most wizards didn’t possess the ability or the self-discipline to master Occlumency—Mr. Potter once told us how horribly he had failed at the art, and of course, Severus liked to embellish the story with a few embarrassing details that always set Mr. Potter’s teeth on edge. The idea shouldn’t have made me so nervous. This should have been great news, and in truth, it was. But when you spend your life thinking you can’t do anything, the sudden realisation that you can is pretty overwhelming. Naturally, Severus had no interest in hearing me pour out my soul to him about this important moment in my life. Sympathy wasn’t really his thing.

So, I hoped for a bit of sympathy from Dad, except that when I got home that evening, Dad wasn’t there. My heart sank when I saw Tom’s traumatised expression and Lydia’s red eyes.

“What’s going on?” I exclaimed.

“She found out,” Tom said, his voice heavy with grief.

I sank down onto the couch. “Shit,” I muttered. “Did she…”

“He’s gone!” Lydia sobbed. “She threw him out!”

I felt numb. This couldn’t be happening! My parents had the perfect marriage! Well, almost perfect. They did bicker a lot, but I never would have dreamed that they would split up, especially over me. I felt sick with guilt, and for a few minutes, I found I couldn’t move or speak or barely breathe. This was my fault, not Dad’s. How could she take this out on him when he was only trying to help?

And then Lydia said something terrible. “This is YOUR fault, George!” she shrieked at me, then tore out of the room, up the stairs and into her bedroom. I could hear the door slam shut.

Tom and I stared after her, as if she might actually come to her senses and come back downstairs. But she didn’t.

“It’s not your fault, man,” Tom said.

That was it. If I stayed any longer on that couch, I would have broken down in a mess of tears and heaving sobs, which I didn’t want to do in front of my brother. I had to see her, talk to her, make her see reason! She couldn’t do this to us! She simply couldn’t throw my father out of the house! I wouldn’t let her! I imagined my mother in my mind, and with destination, deliberation and determination, I apparated straight to her, ready for a fight.

* * * * *

Mum was in tears, sipping tea in Aunt Hermione’s sunny kitchen which overlooked their lush front garden. Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron had lived in this new house only for a few months, right after his promotion in the Law Enforcement Department. It was a lot bigger than their last house—Aunt Hermione wasn’t too big on home décor, so Mum and Mrs. Malfoy had helped her out, making it chic and comfortable and a great place for parties. Unlike our house, they had no electricity, so unlike us, they didn’t have a telly or a computer or a microwave. It was a pure magical lifestyle. 

Both of them started when I appeared, a little too hard and fast—I crashed into the cabinets with a clatter. It should have been funny, but the situation was so dire that instead of laughing, Mum jumped to her feet, ready to help me to my feet, which I appreciated.

“George! What are you doing here?” Aunt Hermione exclaimed, shutting the cabinet door. “How…”

“I apparated! And it wasn’t an accident this time! I did it myself!” I explained. “Mum, you threw Dad out? How could you? He was helping me!”

“What your father did to you was unacceptable!” Mum hissed.

“That’s not true!” I shot back. “Look at me! I apparated!”

But Mum wasn’t having it. “First, he lied to me, and then, he…he ELECTROCUTED you! That is not okay, George!” Her face was nearly as red as her hair.

“Mum, I am an adult, remember? I’m seventeen! I had every right to consent to the procedure!”

She snorted derisively. “Procedure? Are you kidding, George? I know how devoted you are to your father, but honestly, you can’t be so deluded to think that electrocuting you is somehow a good thing!”

“But muggles…”

“You are NOT a muggle!” she shouted.

“Precisely! But the shock helped me, Mum! Look at me! I apparated here on my own! I can do all sorts of really powerful magic now, with nothing more than a thought! I’ve been with Severus for two days learning how to control my magic because it’s spiraling out of control. But Mum, I have magic! TONS of it! Dad’s procedure helped to release it! Why can’t you see that?”

“George, if you think I’m going to say that what your father did to you was okay, then you are mistaken,” Mum said plainly. “What he did was reckless and abusive.”

Was she kidding? Abusive? “Abusive?” I snapped. “That’s ridiculous! Dad would never abuse me! You know that, Mum! You know he would never do that!”

Aunt Hermione stepped in just then—I think my attitude was scaring the hell out of her, to be frank. “George, you must see that what your father did was drastic and out of the ordinary. Had he done that on a patient, he could have lost his license.”

This was beyond frustrating. I knew what they meant, but I refused to lessen my all-consuming belief in my father. “But I’m not a patient, at least, not a regular one. This was for science! Can’t you see that? How could we know whether the theory worked unless we tried it?”

“George…” Mum started.

“Wait, so you’d rather I not have magic at all? You think it’s better for me to be as I was before, frustrated and pathetic? Is that what you want, Mum?”

Mum narrowed her eyes at me. “This conversation is over, George. You need to go home. Now.”

That didn’t seem fair. “So that’s it? Dad’s just out? Just like that?”

“Go home, George.”

I knew I was fighting a losing battle, but I didn’t want to go home. Going home meant defeat. Going home meant that Dad wouldn’t return to us, and I just couldn’t bear that possibility. Without another word, I disapparated straight to Malfoy Manor, to find Dad. I wasn’t sure I’d find him there, but I had a feeling I would. I walked up the long drive towards the sprawling manse, too disturbed by my suddenly crumbling family to care the least bit about the natural splendour all around me.

Dad was there, true to form. He and Mr. Malfoy sat in the library, making their way through a bottle of Old Ogden’s firewhiskey—actually, Mr. Malfoy was going through the bottle of firewhiskey. Dad just sat there with a teacup half filled with whiskey, a look of intense pain on his face. And when he gave me such a look of sympathy, I broke down, right there in the doorway. Dad got up and put his arms around me. Mr. Malfoy just scowled and drank more.

“Dad,” I blubbered, “I’m so sorry about this! It’s all my fault! I should have left it alone but I went along with it because I’m greedy and selfish and I’m so sorry I got you into so much trouble!” I cried pitifully in his arms.

“George, it’s my fault, not yours,” Dad said. I hated it when he was way too nice like this. I wanted him to blame me so he could come home again. “Your Mum is right. I was reckless. What I did was probably not even legal! I didn’t follow proper protocol on this, and I should have.”

Mr. Malfoy frowned. “Sounds familiar.”

“Not now, Draco!” Dad snapped.

“But you weren’t reckless! It worked, Dad! You know that!”

“And if you had gotten hurt? No, George. I let my pride get in the way. I should have talked it over with your mother first, conducted trials at St. Mungo's, too, made sure you were able to handle such a radical treatment, but I was just so eager to test out the theory that I lost my perspective and my professionalism.”

“Dad, you can’t leave us! Please, don’t leave us!” I dissolved into a new flood of tears.

Dad hugged me again, which made me weep all the more. “George, I’ll be here with Draco for a little while. Your mother and I will talk soon. I promise.”

I sniffled like a three year-old. “But will you come home?”

“I don’t know. I hope so. You know how your mother and I are. We argue and then we work it out. This one just might take a bit more time. Just be patient with us, son.”

That night, I couldn’t eat—even Lydia’s very best cookery couldn’t tempt me in the slightest. We five all sat around the dinner table, none of us talking much, eating less. Poor Will just looked confused—there was no way he could have fully understood what had just happened. All my little brother could know was that Mum and Dad yelled and screamed at each other and now Dad wasn’t home and the rest of us were depressed. My head burned and ached from too much sorrow and pain. This just can’t be. Mum can’t be serious about this. I’d have to make her see reason—that much was absolute.


	6. Getting Down to Business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Their feud went on for weeks, and before we knew it, Mum and Dad were talking to Tom McDowell, wizard attorney, about a potential divorce. When Lydia told me the news in the Slytherin common room, I nearly broke down. I couldn’t take this, not now, not ever._

In a way, it was good that we were off to school soon. Seeing our friends again and getting back into schoolwork and the new adventure of being Head Boy. All my enthusiasm for this new post had drained away in the wake of this family disaster, and the prospect of spending quality time with Jane Fowler made me even more depressed. I hadn’t told anyone other than Paige about my parents’ problems—I didn’t want to face it. My hope was that denial would somehow work and they would kiss and make up in no time, like usual.

They didn’t.

Their feud went on for weeks, and before we knew it, Mum and Dad were talking to Tom McDowell, wizard attorney, about a potential divorce. When Lydia told me the news in the Slytherin common room, I nearly broke down. I couldn’t take this, not now, not ever.

In a way, Jane Fowler really saved my life those first awful weeks of school—sure, she was a pill and a bossy little taskmaster, but she kept me focused, which was what I needed. On the other hand, my ex-girlfriend, Ellie Gray, had changed radically over the summer—not only did she change her hair color from willowy blonde to hard black, but her attitude had entirely transformed from the lovely girl she once was to a snide, snotty little bitch. Part of it was the bad influence from her current boyfriend, Malachi Zabini, but it couldn’t be just that. Malachi was a prat, to be sure, but mostly a harmless one. I wondered what had happened to Ellie, especially considering she’s muggle-born.

I wondered about a lot of things, and I started to wonder whether my safe little world would ever be the same.

So here’s how it went the first time I encountered Ellie in the Great Hall at Start of Term feast. The Sorting had just finished and the pudding was served. The house elves had prepared all our favourites—treacle tart, cauldron cakes, and the most amazing chocolate cake in the entire universe. Despite my troubles, I managed to eat a second piece of cake. Althea knew about my family troubles, but she kept it to herself, thank the gods. Instead, she rattled on about her summer trip to Rome with her parents, and of course, all the gory details about her budding romance with Aidan.

I thought Tom would fall over from laughter as she told us way too much about all their pawing and petting and how they had to hide away from Severus or else he’d turn Aidan into a green goat and feed him to the Giant Squid.

That was when Ellie chimed in, right behind us at the Ravenclaw table. Althea and Aidan were busy making goo-goo eyes at each other from a distance—Aidan is in Hufflepuff—so he didn’t hear what Ellie muttered to Malachi.

“Imagine kissing a filthy Squib!” she tittered nastily.

Althea’s jaw dropped. I placed a protective hand over hers. “Let it go, Thea,” I whispered. Althea was not above a good brawl, which I sort of admired. She could throw a good punch.

“Bitch,” she muttered. “One of these days I’m gonna fuck her up so bad…”

“You’re not,” I replied firmly. We were friends, but I had to put on my Head Boy hat, so to speak, to keep Althea from getting in trouble, though I admit it would be a great fight to see.

But Ellie went on, a little louder this time. I could see Theo sitting a ways down the Ravenclaw table with a couple of friends, looking murderously at her.

“I want to give Jessup a gunnysack so he can go drown himself and do the world a favour,” she laughed. Malachi chuckled, but it was too much for Althea—she stood up fast, climbing over the bench to confront Ellie.

I managed to put my arms around Althea—Tom did, too—and pull her back to her seat.

“Come on, Thea,” Tom said. “A bitch like that’s not worth it.”

So then Ellie turns around, looking all offended. “Excuse me, Chaucer, what did you say?” she sniped.

“You heard me, Gray,” Tom replied. The plates on our table rattled.

I half expected Malachi to defend his girlfriend, but the prat just sat there like a total ass.

“You call me a bitch again, little boy, and I’ll report you,” she hissed.

Tom shrugged. “You’re right, Ellie. Calling you a bitch is an insult to bitches. I’ll think up something better.” With that, he sat down. Althea sniggered.

Ellie did not, nor did I. Instead, she glared at me like a gorgon.

“Nice brother you have, George,” she sneered. “He’d better watch himself on that stupid muggle skateboard.”

“Excuse me?” I replied. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Ellie sniggered derisively. “Nothing. Just a concern for your faggot brother’s safety.”

I straightened my spine, as if to look intimidating—Ellie wasn’t intimidated at all, though. She knew me too well. All I had over her was my position as Head Boy. “Look, Gray, if you’re interested in having Ravenclaw lose points before you get to even gain some, I’ll be happy to oblige.”

“Oh that’s right,” she shot back. “I forget you’re in the Headmaster’s back pocket. I’d say you’ve got your nose up his arse, but I wouldn’t wish that punishment on anyone.”

Althea jumped up again, and this time, it took four of us to hold her back. Aidan and Nick must have seen what was going on because they quickly ran to the rescue, pulling her away and out of the Great Hall. Severus…that is, Professor Snape, looked so furious I thought red laser beams would shoot out of his eyes.

“You’re going down, bitch!” Althea roared. “You hear that, bitch?”

Ellie waved her hand dismissively at Althea, laughing snidely.

“You and me, Gray!” Althea went on. “I’m gonna fuck you up, bitch!” Aidan and Tom pushed hard to get her away and out of trouble—I could see Professor Snape snarling at us from a distance. I had to take immediate Head Boy action.

“That’s it, Gray!” I shouted. “Twenty-five points from Ravenclaw and ten from Slytherin!”

“That’s unfair!” Malachi protested. “Why does Ellie get more points off?”

“Because your little shag-machine started it, you pillock!” I retorted. “The both of you get straight to your House…NOW, before I take more points from Ravenclaw!”

By this time, Jane arrived to see what was going on. Ellie turned to Jane for support, but then, Jane did the unbelievable.

“You heard him, Ellie,” she said sternly. “Get to Ravenclaw before you idiots lose us any more damn points!” Then, she turned on me. “George, with me!”

The two of us stormed out of the Great Hall, where I was sure she’d take my head off for taking points off her House and her friend.

“You let that go way too far, George!” she lectured. “The first minute she showed insubordination, you should have taken off points!”

“For stupid trash talk? That’s ridiculous.”

“It’s called crowd control, George,” Jane replied impatiently.

“Well I disagree with you. I don’t think it’s fair to take points off for stupid remarks!”

“But she crossed a line she shouldn’t have! By letting it go, you allowed her to insult the Headmaster, your friend and your brother, who by the way is a Prefect.”

We were like a couple of parents bickering about how to best discipline the children. Jane was the hardliner—I just hoped I wouldn’t be the softy who got walked on. It was a weird moment, though. I sort of hoped that it might be a time for me and Jane to call a truce and get along but instead, it turned into a power play, with Jane on top. I was going to have to work on that.

* * * * *

The next morning didn’t fare much better for me. In fact, things got even worse. Even before I got to the Great Hall for breakfast, I was stopped by Professor Snape, who thrust a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ into my hands.

“Before you go in there,” he said stiffly, “you need to know that the _Prophet_ printed an article about your family troubles. Front page.”

“WHAT???” I bellowed. It was true. Splashed across the front page was a lovely family photograph of us that would splinter into pieces. Over the picture was the headline: **TROUBLE IN PARADISE: WEASLEY-CHAUCERS HEADING FOR DIVORCE?**. Below the headline, in smaller print was the line: **Rumours of scandal and corruption emerge as the darlings of the wizarding world head for divorce court**.

I didn’t read the article. It was too painful.

“I’m sorry about this, Chaucer,” Professor Snape said grimly. “I don’t know how this got out.”

“You know what frosts me? That stupid, fucking rag won’t print a story about a major demonstration for civil liberties, but they’ll print this shit on the front page!”

“I don’t know what people will say to you in there,” he said, indicating the Great Hall, which buzzed with hungry students. “Just be strong and keep that magic in check. Don’t set anyone on fire, including Miss Gray.”

“Thanks, sir.”

With that, I gathered my courage, repressed my emotions as best I could, and went into the Great Hall for breakfast. As I passed by, I could feel everyone’s eyes on me, judging, commenting, whispering. No one laughed. No one had to. My face burning with shame, I headed for the Slytherin table, filled my plate with eggs and bacon and ate in stony silence, ignoring everyone around me. Even when I felt Paige sit down next to me, I didn’t look over at her. She kissed me on the cheek.

“Father said your parents were seen outside Flourish and Blott’s, yelling obscenities at each other,” she said quietly. “That’s how the story broke. Some idiot overheard them and…well, you know the rest.”

I suppressed a sob. I knew they were separated, but I still held out hope that they would reconcile. But obscenities in public? I never thought my parents capable of that. “I can’t believe this is happening,” I muttered.

Theo, Nick and June joined us, all looking stricken. “Why didn’t you tell us your parents split up?” Theo asked.

I shrugged and shook my head glumly. I lost my appetite. Before I could reply, Professor Higgs, head of Slytherin House, approached our table with our schedules.

“You people aren’t in Slytherin,” he said, irritated. “You need to go back to your tables to get your schedules.”

Paige kissed me quickly on the lips and sauntered back to the Gryffindor table. Tom now sat across from me, looking just about as bad as me. I didn’t see Lydia anywhere, and I worried about her.

“Now then, tough break, George. Tough break, Tom.” Higgs wasn’t exactly famous for his empathy. He thrust our schedules at us and moved on to everyone else.

My schedule was pretty much the same as always, though I wondered whether it should be any more. Maybe I should take regular wizard classes like most everyone else. But like always, I had the usual Squib classes like Maths, Philosophy, Literature and History of Magic, plus Herbology, Muggle Studies and Independent Study, my class with Professor McGonagall. Under normal circumstances I would have complained and tried to get my schedule changed, but this morning, I wasn’t in the mood.

Jane was even less sympathetic than Higgs. “Everyone has family trouble, George,” she told me at the end of breakfast. “We have a job to do.”

Always the job. She was right, of course, but still. Another lost opportunity to make amends with Jane Fowler. One day I’d ask her if she knew anything about why my parents never wanted to talk about her family. Maybe that would explain why she disliked me so much. One thing I did notice about her, though, was that she spent far less time with Ellie. They used to be practically stapled to each other, but then Ellie got Malachi and Jane got power.

But Jane’s boyfriend, Dorsett, was another issue. He hadn’t gotten over being rejected as Head Boy, and he wasn’t afraid to show his resentment out in the open, even using my parents’ separation as ammunition against me.

“I’m surprised they didn’t split up when they thought you were a pathetic Squib,” he muttered, right to my face. If I were Tom, I would have slugged him in his fat mouth. Instead, I just docked him twenty points for sassing the Head Boy.

It was weird. When I first started my political campaign, there was a little trouble, but nothing too bad. In fact, at first, most of other students seemed pretty supportive of the whole idea of equal rights for the magically challenged. We’d put posters all over Hogwarts, and for the most part, people reacted positively to them. But that demonstration changed things, I think. It was the first time that the magically challenged militated _en masse_ for their rights, and I think it shook up a lot of wizards and witches. It wasn’t just words any more, but action, real action, real people, real demands—and finally, the Ministry was noticing. Who knew? They might even listen…eventually.

As many witches and wizards had given us their support and their voice, it dawned on me that a lot of others didn’t. I remembered those who shouted insults at us, and I wondered just how many agreed with them but were too shit scared to join in the melee. How many at Hogwarts agreed with them, and more importantly, how many were willing to take action against us? I was sure that Ellie wasn’t the only one who thought that Squibs were pond scum who should be drowned like stray cats, but how many? And should we push farther with the campaign, how many might go beyond insults and resort to something more drastic and more awful? We were ready for protests, but were we ready for counter-protests?

It unnerved me, but it didn’t dissuade me from pressing on. After all, we had the Ministry interested in our cause by now, at least according to Sasha Shaklebolt. Maybe that was the problem. Maybe people saw impending change and were recoiling from its threat.

Why did Ellie call Tom a faggot?

* * * * *

I couldn’t ask him, of course, I mean, how could you ask such a question, especially to your fifteen year-old brother? It was likely just more trash-talk on Ellie’s part, but on the other hand, who knew? Tom changed a lot these last several months, which is fun to watch but challenging, too. He was just as wild as ever, not unlike my crazy uncles, but he had grown into a sort of cerebral person, too, more often to pause and think in most situations.

Tom hadn’t dated anyone yet, unlike me and Freddy. Both of us started on girls young—I’d had my first kiss by fourteen and Freddy had lost his virginity at sixteen. Mine was still intact, just barely, though like any seventeen year-old male, I had my…moments. Anyway, I supposed that Tom was just a late bloomer or something. He was charismatic and dashing in his own boyish way, always physical, always on the go, even in his more intellectual moments. But he hadn’t had a single date with a girl, and as far as I know, he hadn’t had a first kiss yet. I suppose it’s wrong to rush that sort of thing—maybe I’m just being overprotective of my younger brother.

Hearing someone like Ellie call him a faggot really hurt. Even if Tom were…she still meant to insult him with language like that. Whatever Tom was, I still loved him and admired his courage and his integrity, so the last thing I needed to hear, especially when my parents were split up, was some unfounded insult leveled at Tom.

But enough of that. Thankfully, the students were a rowdy bunch this year, giving me and Jane and the Prefects plenty of things to do. There were more detentions this year than ever before, and for some pretty bad things. For example, Mulciber, Avery and Dolohov had busied themselves over the summer surrounding themselves with a gang of like-minded thugs, none of whom were remotely friendly towards my campaign. A lot of these kids had Death Eater family ties, but not all of them, and not all of them were purebloods. Some, such as Albert Caldwell, were muggle-born.

I never liked Albert Caldwell—he’s a Seventh-Year Slytherin Prefect, so I had to deal with him on a daily basis, however, that made me dislike him all the more. Another of the litany of boys who felt slighted by Professor Snape for making me Head Boy, Caldwell spent much of his time loudly proclaiming his own amazing feats as a perfect O-grade student and a first-class Beater for the Quidditch team. True, he did play at sport extremely well. He was tough, big, clever, and completely slippery. I would no more trust Caldwell than the worst prisoner in Azkaban.

I wondered sometimes at my cousin’s choices for Prefects and such. It was weird because so many of them—Jane, Caldwell, Dorsett—were certainly efficient and serious, but they were also out for themselves. All I could do was to take my job as earnestly as Jane did and not take crap from anyone. Maybe that’s why there were so many detentions this year, with both Heads plus half the Prefects trying to prove themselves. What a mess!

All this law and disorder had stressed me out, and with Dad’s permission, I was allowed to take three drops of Lethargis at night, though still only two during the day. When I wrote to him, I begged him not to make any drastic decisions about the family and the divorce. He didn’t reply, at least not to that part of my six-page letter.

_George,  
Sounds like you’re having a heck of a time this term! Just be firm with them and use your natural sense of justice. I have a lot of faith in you to do the right thing! I hope it’s working out with you and Miss Fowler alright. For the rest of the term, go a head and take 3 drops at night, but no more than 2 in the morning. We’ll do an assessment when you come home for Christmas._

_Take care, and tell Tom to watch it on that skateboard._

_Love,  
Dad_

“Home for Christmas?” I muttered bitterly to myself. “What home?”


	7. Poison

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I downed half my pumpkin juice before I suddenly realised I’d forgotten to take my Lethargis potion that morning—one, two drops in. No more. Everyone stood up to go to class, and so did I. I swung my legs around, grabbed my schoolbag and threw down the pumpkin juice in one swallow. But wait…it didn’t taste quite right or something. I coughed once, twice, four times. I swooned for a moment. What was going on? A violent sense of panic overwhelmed me and then…_

As November started, I think I’d put Dolohov in detention four times, and by now, I was done with the brat. Knowing Professor Higgs would be no help, the fifth time I caught Dolohov sneaking out of bounds, I decided to go straight to the top, dragging him by the scruff of the collar to the Headmaster.

Severus…that is, Professor Snape…was none too chuffed to have his peace and quiet be so violently and loudly disturbed by me and the irascible little prat, but it couldn’t be helped.

“Sorry, sir,” I said, giving Dolohov a shove into the centre of the Headmaster’s grand office. “This is the fifth time he’s been caught out of bounds.”

Professor Snape sat on the edge of his desk, arms folded, eyes narrowed at the stupid boy—Dolohov glared back.

“Meeting your cronies, are you, Mr. Dolohov?” he asked dangerously.

“I was just running an errand,” Dolohov lied. “I was just going to the library.”

“At half eleven?”

“I wanted to know the library’s hours of service.”

Professor Snape gave an audible grunt. “And considering that your best marks this year are a long string of P’s, what did you hope to accomplish by visiting the library at such a time?”

“Well, I want to improve my marks, sir,” he shot back with a sneer. “Isn’t that what students are supposed to do?”

“They are also not supposed to lie to the Headmaster nor to the Head Boy,” Professor Snape growled.

Dolohov scoffed at that, throwing me a vicious glare. “Oh, you mean him?” he answered, thrusting his thumb in my direction.

“Mr. Weasley-Chaucer, you are dismissed,” Professor Snape replied smoothly, his voice ice cold. “You may return to your rooms. I shall take care of this intellectual leviathan personally.”

As I walked back to my room next to Slytherin House, I actually worried a little for Dolohov. My cousin was clearly on my side in this, but I knew all too well how cruel he could be, especially in the face of moronic lack of consideration or wisdom. I half expected Severus to reinstate corporal punishment, just this once.

Back in the safety of my rooms, I sat at the table for a while, going over some neglected maths equations that were due in class tomorrow. Calculus. I wasn’t crazy about maths, but at least I was pretty good at the subject, and I always managed to get O’s on my exams. The only one better than me at maths was Theo—he wasn’t so great with some of his other subjects, like literature or history, but when it came to maths and to Squib level Potions, Theo was a genius. I half wanted to go over some of the problems with him that night, but I was too tired from wrangling baby Death Eaters. I took my potion and went to bed, falling into a very deep sleep.

The next morning, I woke with a start, realising that I’d overslept by a half hour! One thing that’s good about living in the dorms with everyone else is that in the morning, you hear everyone getting up, showering, brushing teeth, getting dressed, snapping at each other. On my own, it was different, and all I had to rely on was an alarm clock. Unfortunately, last night I was so tired that I forgot to set it—in fact, I was so tired that I even forgot to put my potion bottle away. Thankfully it was still on the table next to my open maths book. 

With no time to take my potion in my room, I snatched up the bottle and all my stuff and dashed to the Great Hall for a quick breakfast before running straight to class. Fortunately when I arrived at the Hufflepuff table that morning, Nick and Aidan had saved me a place—the usual gang was there, finishing up waffles and ham and eggs and tons of pumpkin juice. I slapped a big waffle on my plate, drowned it with maple syrup and dove into breakfast.

“Uh, hello!” Theo laughed.

“Hey man,” I replied, mouth full of waffle. I gave Paige a syrupy kiss on the lips.

“You overslept, didn’t you?” Althea noted with a smirk and mussed my rumpled hair.

“Dolohov,” I said, slamming down another mouthful of waffle and ham. “Little fucker. Your Dad took care of him, though.”

“Poor sod,” Althea grumbled, rolling her eyes. “Hope he survived the night.”

I downed half my pumpkin juice before I suddenly realised I’d forgotten to take my Lethargis potion that morning—one, two drops in. No more. Everyone stood up to go to class, and so did I. I swung my legs around, grabbed my schoolbag and threw down the pumpkin juice in one swallow. But wait…it didn’t taste quite right or something. I coughed once, twice, four times. I swooned for a moment. What was going on? A violent sense of panic overwhelmed me and then…

A torrent of nauseating, excruciating pain suddenly ripped through my entire body, making me shriek out loud, as if I were under some sort of horrible torture. What was this? What happening to me? I panicked as my whole body exploded in frightening pain. My heart pounded in my ears as I looked around frantically for something, anything to make this stop.

“George?” Paige asked, stricken by my ghostlike face. “GEORGE!!!”

But my whole body was so overcome by pain that I can’t even describe that I fell forward, dropping my schoolbag with a clunk. I couldn’t stop shrieking and howling like a wounded animal—my body became rigid with agony, so that all I could do was writhe and twitch and jerk and do anything possible to get rid of this horror assaulting my body, inside and out. I felt my insides turn to liquid and then into swords and my brains turn to razors, cutting and slashing and digging into every part of me.

I could vaguely hear Tom yelling my name and Paige sobbing and Althea screaming for her father. I could hear Severus tell Paige to get her father and for Tom to get my father and Lydia to get my mother. I was stung, eviscerated, sliced, boiled, hacked to bits, all in waves and unrelenting waves, and nothing could stop it. All the tears I shed made it only worse, and when Severus moved me…was it to the Hospital Wing?...the pain increased, as if each attempt to lessen it only encouraged the torture to get that much more intense, that much more unrelenting.

For what seemed like an eternity it persisted—days and days with no sleep, no relief, no peace, no solace. My body was raw, my mind desperate and despairing and frantic and paranoid. I scratched at myself, hoping I could rid myself of this invisible monster, but only succeeded in bloodying my face and arms. I couldn’t cry out any more, and after a couple of unyielding days of pounding misery, I couldn’t writhe or move or think any longer. I had no more voice to scream or swear or curse, no more energy to fight. The pain sank in to my muscles, ate at my blood, twisted my brains and my heart and soul.

_“Come on now, drink this…”_

I tasted something foul and cold. Maybe Severus was giving me something to kill me, to put me out of my misery—at that point I would have been grateful. And suddenly, the horror stopped, and I lay back on the pillows and passed out.

* * * * *

I don’t know how long I slept—it might have been an hour or a week. A pang of hunger was what woke me up at long last—my empty stomach roared in protest as I lay there, flaccid and listless. It took a while for me to open my eyes properly—though the worst of the pain was mercifully over, I was still sore and shaking all over. My arms were bruised and badly scratched up. Slowly, I turned my head, and to my relief, I saw the bleary figure of my mother. I burst into tears.

Mum wrapped her arms around me and wept, too.

“Daddy says you’re going to be fine,” she whispered through gentle tears. “He’s been taking good care of you.”

It was hard to move, but I managed to put a comforting hand on her shoulders as she held me. The nurse rushed in to prop up my pillows—I suddenly realised I was in St. Mungo's, not the Hospital Wing.

“I’ll tell Healer Kharloubian,” she said, rushing back out.

“Come on, Georgie, let’s get you sitting up,” Mum said, easing me into a sitting position, which hurt more than I thought it would.

Both of us were distracted by the sound of Dad’s frantic voice. “He’s up?” we heard him exclaim. “When? Is he alright?” Then footsteps rushing in. Dad stopped at the threshold, looking at me with new eyes. Tears streamed down his face as he briefly touched his palms to his forehead.

“Oh my gods, George!” Dad blubbered, pacing back and forth in the doorway.

“You can come in,” Mum said, smiling at him.

Dad hurried in and sat at my bedside, looking over every part of me. “George, you have no idea…” he started, only stopping to control his emotions. I noticed that he and Mum squeezed each other’s hands quickly.

“What happened to me?” I asked.

Mum and Dad looked at each other dolefully for a moment. “Maybe we can talk about that later,” Mum said, eyes cast down.

“But…” I started.

“He needs to know, Ginny,” Dad said.

“He just woke up, Nigel,” Mum replied sternly.

“Mum, you can tell me,” I said, not wanting them to start fighting again. “I want to know.”

A long sigh. She nodded. “Baby, you were…someone…I don’t know how but…somebody…you were…poisoned,” Mum replied. She shuddered. So did I.

Poisoned? Me? What? Poisoned? It sounded so medieval, so…evil.

“I don’t understand,” I babbled, bewildered. “Who would do that? Who would poison me?”

Dad sighed heavily. “It took us three days to figure out what you were given—whoever made the potion knew what they were doing. And it took me and Severus five more days to make an antidote for you.”

“You made the antidote?” I asked stupidly.

“Your father and Severus saved your life,” Mum said. Dad blushed.

What could I do but break down in tears all over again. It was so unbelievable! Someone wanted to poison me? Kill me? Torture me? Why? I knew I caused a bit of controversy here and there, but was any of that enough to want to do such a horrible thing?

“Do you know who did this?” I asked through sobs.

Dad kissed me on the forehead, which actually hurt a little. “Your uncle Ron and Deputy Chief Borisov are conducting the inquiry. They’ll get to the bottom of this, Georgie.” Dad calls me Georgie when he worries.

“But how?” I asked. “How did they do it?”

“Apparently they stole your Lethargis bottle,” Mum said. “They poured out the contents and replaced it with that Cruciatus potion.”

Cruciatus?

Dad frowned. “We’re dealing with extremely dark magic, George. Not only are the contents of the potion extremely dangerous when combined, but the potion maker puts the Cruciatus curse on it so that the potion mimics the effects of the curse. It’s worse than the regular Cruciatus curse because it’s in potion form—it penetrates every part of…”

“Nigel! Don’t!” Mum protested.

Dad nodded. “Sorry. You’re right.”

“But I want to know!” I objected. “What will this potion do to me? Is it still a danger?”

“The antidote stopped the pain, but there are some residual effects,” Dad explained, sounding very much like a Healer. “First of all, your body has been through a terrible trauma this last week, so it just needs rest and recovery. You’re sore partly from fighting the potion for so long, and partly from the potion itself. You’re a bit scratched and bruised up from all the thrashing about you did. Your skin will be a little sensitive to touch for a few days.”

“For how long?” I asked.

“Probably another week or so, and then you’ll be fine,” Dad said, trying to sound calm.

“We’re bringing you home tomorrow,” Mum said. “And then you’ll go back to school at the start of next week.”

Just then, an ashen Freddy poked his head in, and seeing me sitting up, he grinned. “Hey, you guys,” he called out, “he’s up!”

Like a mad deluge of humanity, everyone bounded into the room—a tear-stained Lydia, Tom, Paige, Althea, Abraxas, Aurora, Freddy, Sasha, Nick, Aidan, Theo, Mr. Malfoy, Severus, Mrs. Snape, Nigel Brian, my uncles Fred, George Percy and Bill, all my grandparents…and Jane? Lydia got to me first, and threw her arms around me tightly. It hurt more than a little, but I didn’t care. Just being alive and seeing my family and closest friends and not being in horrific pain any more was enough for me.

“Careful, baby,” Mum said to Lydia. “He’s still a bit sore from everything.”

Lydia reluctantly let go of me and let Freddy take over. I’d never seen my older brother like this—so upset, so emotional, so vulnerable. Freddy was usually the one laughing, pulling pranks, enjoying life, but now it was as if he were the one who’d been tortured. I guess we all were. It made feel terrible, that this thing that happened to me was causing everyone else so much agony. I hated whatever bastard did this. 

I wanted revenge.

Severus stood in shadows, behind the rest, looking as inscrutable as ever. I wasn’t sure if he was silently hurting about this or if he was being his typical stoic self. He lowered his hard black eyes and pinched the bridge of his long, aquiline nose, his greying hair hanging down like curtains around his aging, sallow face. My heart broke for him. I think the fact that I look so much like my father confuses him sometimes, so that when something awful like this happens to me, he takes it particularly hard. Or maybe he was just tired.

You never know with Severus Snape.

Either way, I was alive and in one piece and starving for food. The last thing I ate was waffles and ham—I never wanted to touch the stuff again in my life, and I never wanted another drop of pumpkin juice, either. The nurse brought in jelly and toast, but when I saw the heaping glass of pumpkin juice on the tray, I lost my appetite. Frankly, even the smell of it made my stomach turn dangerously. It still does.

“Mum, can you take this away?” I asked, handing her the glass.

Freddy took it from her and took it outside, returning with a glass of water. “Better, little bro?”

“Thanks.” I took a long drink, feeling incredibly naked as everyone stared at me. “So what happened?” I dared to ask.

I didn’t expect Althea to burst into tears. She buried her face in her father’s robes and sobbed. Even Tom rubbed his eyes, as did Theo. Finally, Aidan spoke up.

“We were all leaving for class, remember? You downed your pumpkin juice and then…” he paused. I could see his hands shaking. I didn’t want to know any more. “…and then you just sort of turned all grey or something.”

Althea sobbed even louder.

“We all called out to you, but you started bellowing and screaming like someone had stabbed you or something,” Aidan continued, his voice wobbing terribly. “You just fell on the floor and started sort of writhing about like you were on fire. We didn’t know what do to.”

“Althea got the Headmaster,” Jane said, taking over from an overwhelmed Aidan. Leave it to Jane to keep her head. “I must say, he was splendid. He ordered everyone out, and then he got your brother and sister to collect your parents and for Miss Malfoy to get her father. He apparated right into the Great Hall, which shocked me, to be honest.”

“Draco was the one who got you here,” Mum said, giving Mr. Malfoy a teary smile. “He and Severus. Tom fetched Freddy, too. He and Lydia were so brave.”

That was it for my younger brother. He dissolved into tears—it was so rare to see him like that.

“Thank you,” I said through heavy emotion. “Thank you all for helping me…for saving me.” My appetite came back—toast and jam never tasted so good as it did just then. But a new thought assaulted me. “So what now? What’s going to happen?”

“Well,” Dad said, “as we said, you’ll rest up at home for the rest of the week. Your mother and I are going to help you get your strength back.”

Freddy gasped. “Dad, does that mean…”

Dad grinned. So did Mum. “Yes,” Dad said. “I’m coming home, too.” And then he did just about the best thing ever. He leaned across my bed and kissed Mum on the lips—and she kissed him back! What a moment!

* * * * *

Most kids cringe at the thought of their parents going at it…you know, having sex. I knew my parents must have done it a lot, considering there are five of us kids, but most of the time, we never heard them. The one exception to that was a few years ago—they were so loud that Freddy actually had the nerve to knock on their door and tell them to quieten down. Will was born not long after that one.

My first day back home, I rejoiced at watching both my parents hovering over me and showing me so much love and tender care—and it was even better to see how they treated each other, as if they were newly married or something. So anyway, later that night…well, you get the idea. I know this sounds a bit perverse or something, but there was something sort of beautiful about hearing them together. Hearing them in their bedroom made me laugh and even cry a little—maybe I was just overwhelmed about everything that had gone on or something. I don’t know. All I knew was that my Dad was home and my parents were apparently very happy again.

That was all I needed.

My recovery, however, was pretty rough. Having been sleep deprived for over a week had taken its toll on me, as had a week of no food or water—I was horribly thin, pale and tired, emotionally drained from the constant torture. It’s so hard to talk about or even think about. Dad wanted me to get therapy to deal with whatever I was feeling, but I was reluctant.

“I just want to know who did this and why,” I said resolutely. “That’s the best therapy I can think of.”

“So do I, George,” he said the next morning at breakfast. “But let’s be frank here. You have been through a terrible ordeal and you need to deal with it!”

“I know, Dad!” I snapped back. I didn’t mean to sound so mean, but he was pushing me into very uncomfortable waters.

“You know, son, after my accident when I was about your age, I went through a lot of anger and rage,” Dad explained. “Therapy helped me work through those feelings so they didn’t bite me in the arse later in life.”

“I know, Dad.” I knew. We’d heard it a hundred times. “Look, Dad, this just happened, alright? Let me recover physically first.”

He sat back and scowled.

“Dad,” I said quietly. “I…what do I do about my Lethargis potion?”

“What do you mean?” 

“What if I’m afraid to take it now?” A tear snaked treacherously down my face.

Dad kissed me on the cheek and wiped my tear away. “That’s why you need to talk, George,” he said softly.

I understood.


	8. The Return of George Weasley-Chaucer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Professor Sinistra conjured snacks for all the table even though dinner was just an hour away—piles of crisps, veggies, apple slices, all sorts of stuff. And then I saw it—a huge carafe of pumpkin juice. My stomach lurched violently, but I didn’t get sick. My pallor went from white to wraith, alarming everyone around me._
> 
> _“Please get rid of that,” I said to Althea, pointing at the carafe._

Before I returned to Hogwarts, I had to spend several hours talking to my uncle Ron about what had happened. Uncle Ron is a Commander with Magical Law Enforcement, in charge of major homicides and other high-profile crimes. Since I’m the son of the Great Nigel Chaucer, I qualified as high-profile.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t tell uncle Ron very much, making things even more frustrating. I didn’t know who stole my potion bottle because any number of people had access to my front room, where I unfortunately left the bottle in the first place. I was kicking myself for that, and for the fact that I had slept so well and so deeply that night—if only I’d been awakened by a nightmare or a suspicious noise. And did I know who might have done this? No! OK, so my appointment was controversial and my campaign was controversial and I pissed off Dolohov and Ellie and Malachi and a bunch of other people. But I couldn’t imagine that any of them would want to torture and kill me.

Freddy is right about me. I do put people on pedestals too much.

“Did you argue with anyone this term?” he asked, his Quick Quotes Quill at the ready for my response.

“I’m Head Boy,” I replied. “Sure I argued with people. I argue with people every day. But it’s over petty stuff, not anything serious.”

“Were there any particular blowouts that stand out to you?” he asked.

Blowouts? That was a bit much. Then again, there was that big blowout with Ellie the first night back, but that was just stupid. I was sure that Ellie wouldn’t do something like this, no matter how bitchy she had become. Then again, she had become a first-class bigot these days. Then again, this was Ellie! She might have gotten some mixed up opinions from the likes of Malachi, but Ellie didn’t have it in her to do such a terrible thing to anyone. She might shout me down, but torture me? I just couldn’t imagine it.

“Well, I got into it with Dolohov the day before,” I admitted. “But I can’t imagine Dolohov is remotely capable of something like this.”

“His father and grandfather were Death Eaters,” uncle Ron reminded me, a tone of disgust in his voice.

“Yeah, but Dolohov is a terrible Potions student. He’s pretty much a universal thickhead.”

Uncle Ron scowled. “Assuming he made the potion.”

Honestly, that thought threw me. I hadn’t considered the possibility that more than one person was involved. And of course, the Cruciatus Curse was popular amongst Death Eaters, at least according to Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Potter.

“But he’s a Third Year!” I protested.

Uncle Ron put a hand on my knee and looked me in the eye. “You want to find out who did this to you, right?”

“Yeah. Of course!”

“Then you have to consider all possibilities, including the improbable ones.”

He had a point.

“Say, uncle Ron, wouldn’t it be faster to just use Veritaserum on everyone?” I asked.

“Yeah, but I’d have to have special reason to resort to that. That stuff is heavily regulated by the Ministry.”

“My Dad used it in interrogations!” I reminded him. He got his best confessions that way.

“Yeah, and your Dad had the authority to do so back then. He was dealing with adults, not with children, and these adults had killed hundreds of people. What was done to you is horrible, but it’s a different sort of crime and has to be investigated differently. Can you understand that?”

No. “I guess,” I replied reluctantly. I couldn’t help but feel a bit deflated just then.

Uncle Ron stood up and put away the notepad and quill. “Whilst you were in hospital, I spent some time at Hogwarts asking questions of your friends, teachers, headmaster and the Head Girl. I’ll be back out there in a couple of days to follow up on a few leads, so you can expect to see a bit of me until we get this resolved.”

“What leads do you have?”

“Well, the most telling thing we have is that at least one person involved had to be muggle-born.”

“Muggle-born? How do you know that?” I was shocked! Stunned!

“One of the ingredients in the potion was a muggle substance, some chemical I can’t pronounce.”

“So why does that mean a muggle-born was involved?” I demanded. I knew, but I didn’t want to admit it. I wanted to hear it from my uncle.

“No wizard would have dreamed of using such a substance because wizards have no regard for muggle stuff. Only a muggle-born would have any knowledge of what chemicals were even available in the muggle world.”

My blood ran cold, especially when uncle Ron went on.

“It’s also remotely possible that your attacker was either magically challenged or related to somebody magically challenged.”

“Because the magically challenged are more likely to work in the muggle world?” I asked, feeling sick.

“Exactly. I don’t think a magically challenged person could actually make this potion, but they could certainly get the muggle ingredients and help to make it.”

“But why would they do that to me? I’m on their side! I’m the one trying to get them equal rights!”

Uncle Ron nodded. “True. But it also possible that some of them don’t want to be equal.”

“Who wouldn’t want to be equal?”

He shrugged. “Someone very comfortable where they are in life. Someone who knows how to milk the system in their favour. Or just someone stupid.”

“I guess,” I said, my mind spinning.

“This isn’t going to be an easy mystery to solve, I’m afraid, George. I wish it were so we could do the Dementor’s Kiss on them and throw away the bloody key. We’ll get them, George. I promise.” With that, uncle Ron cuffed me on the shoulder and disapparated.

* * * * *

No one visited me at home. It wasn’t that I didn’t want them to, though I didn’t really. I looked awful and was still thin and pale and sore from the trauma. But on top of that, the reality was that my friends had to get back to school and press on. The prospect of going back so soon brought up some uncomfortable and ugly emotions in me—for the first time in my life, I was afraid, seriously, deeply afraid. As much as I missed everyone and wanted to get back with my friends again, I was afraid to see them. It’s hard to explain.

I was nervous about going back to school, back to the scene of the crime, and the growing sense of paranoia started to wear on me as Sunday approached. The plan was for me and Dad to go to church, have luncheon with my parents and Chaucer grandparents and then go straight to Hogwarts late that afternoon. But I had grown comfortable and safe back at home, especially with Dad back and everyone being so nice and attentive. Going back to school meant going back to a place where someone wanted to kill me or at least torture me. The thought gave me nightmares, especially as I started to realise that it was likely a whole group of people involved in this terrible act.

I had to be strong. After all, I was Head Boy. I was the head of a growing social justice movement, too, a leader from a family of leaders. Whatever fears and trepidation I possessed had to be set aside for the greater good—if Jane could set aside personal worries and doubts, so could I! Then again, no one had ever tried to torture or kill her. Mostly, I wanted everything to return to normal, though I knew that life at Hogwarts would never again be normal until my attacker was caught.

Or attackers. Son of a bitch. I fought against incipient despair.

My parents and I arrived at the gates of Hogwarts at half four Sunday afternoon, when most kids were milling about or at the library or relaxing before Sunday dinner—Severus himself came to collect us from the gates and led us slowly up the long walk toward the castle. I could feel my throat tighten the closer we got. My hands shook as the main entrance neared, and at the first sight of a student, I broke into a cold sweat—could they be the one who did this to me? Dad put a reassuring hand on my shoulder as we walked.

That’s when someone saw us. The girl, a redheaded Hufflepuff Second Year, grinned brightly and dashed off shrieking, “He’s back! Chaucer’s back!”

The next thing we all knew, the entire school population descended on the four of us, waving, smiling, laughing, cheering my name. It felt good, at least for five minutes. I smiled back, shook hands with everyone, hugged a few people, high fived a few more.

“Welcome back, George!” they all shouted.

“We kept Dorsett out of your room!” a girl announced. Everyone laughed.

“Yeah, otherwise the prat would have usurped your throne!” another girl said. More laughter.

The crowd of kids ushered us into the castle, depositing us in the Great Hall, where I sat at the Gryffindor tale and answered dozens of ridiculous questions. I have no idea where my parents went in the fray—I assumed that Professor Snape must have whisked them to safety. Paige stroked my arm sweetly as Theo sat up tall and proud and a bit protective as everyone pressed in to talk and say hello.

“You look good, George,” someone from Hufflepuff said. Althea made a face.

“He does not!” she snapped. “He looks like shit! You would, too, if you’d gotten tortured like that for a solid week!”

The Hufflepuff student shrank back, cowed by her outburst.

“Oh come on, Thea,” I retorted, trying to lighten the mood a bit. “I don’t look that bad, do I?”

Paige ran her fingers through my hair and nuzzled my cheek. “Don’t worry, love,” she said assuringly. “We’ll fatten you up before you know it.”

I laughed. The first laugh I’d had in a while. “You should develop a tanning charm! I need some colour back!”

Paige smirked. “Well if your magic is as wacky out of control as it was before, then you should just think yourself tan!”

It was a thought. But what would I look like tan? Come on! I’m English! We don’t really do tan. But pink-cheeked, slightly rosy? Possible. I sat for a moment and tried to picture myself with a shred of tan—quickly, I dropped it, not wanting to accidentally give myself something I couldn’t undo. Better to focus on my weight and getting my appetite back.

Professor Sinistra conjured snacks for all the table even though dinner was just an hour away—piles of crisps, veggies, apple slices, all sorts of stuff. And then I saw it—a huge carafe of pumpkin juice. My stomach lurched violently, but I didn’t get sick. My pallor went from white to wraith, alarming everyone around me.

“Please get rid of that,” I said to Althea, pointing at the carafe.

“Oh my goodness!” she exclaimed, pushing it far away from us all. “Sorry about that.”

“New allergy?” 

I knew who it was before I turned around—I could tell by Nick’s and Althea’s furious facial expressions that Malachi had arrived, as much of a prat as ever. I turned to face him, wondering.

“Excuse me?” I asked, totally affronted by his callousness.

But Malachi only grinned. “Just kidding, Chaucer. Hey, glad you’re alright. You look good.” With that, he sauntered off, joining Ellie and their cronies at the Ravenclaw table.

“What was that all about?” I whispered to my friends. “Since when did Malachi Zabini get all friendly?”

“He was pretty freaked out by what happened to you,” Theo said. “For days, he kept asking me how you were, whether you were alive or dead or awake or whatever. He wouldn’t let it go!”

“I wonder why?” I pondered. “I’d think he’d be chuffed to see me like that.”

“That’s a terrible thing to say!” Paige exclaimed. “George, you have no idea what all the students have gone through these last couple of weeks! Everyone has been really shaken up by this. No one at Hogwarts has been attacked like that before.”

“Wasn’t your Dad attacked pretty bad?” I reminded her.

Paige frowned. “That was an accident, or at least that’s what father says. He said Mr. Potter didn’t know what he was doing when he threw that Sectumsempra spell at him.”

That made Theo think—he rested his chin in his hands and sighed. “This could have been an accident, too, right?” he mused.

“I don’t think so, Theo,” I replied gravely. I wished he was right, but I knew he wasn’t. “Someone knew what they were doing, and they must have known who the potion was for.”

Paige leaned her head on my shoulder. “Let’s change the subject.”

We spent the rest of the afternoon chatting about plans for the campaign, including ideas for new posters, a new brochure and all sorts of other exciting ideas—it gave me new courage, actually, to know that the energy of our movement hadn’t been lost. Rather, I think we were all a bit galvanized by what had happened to me, as if to thumb our collective nose at my attackers and press onward.

* * * * *

While the atmosphere at Hogwarts had changed somewhat, one thing remained the same. My magic was not only not curtailed by the attack but in fact, had grown even wilder and crazier since I returned, as if my newfound paranoia had somehow spurred it on or something. Poor Professor McGonagall! She was way too old to have to deal with this sort of thing, but there just wasn’t anyone else even remotely better equipped. Plus, she was retired—no one else had the time.

Take the chickens, for example.

There’s a muggle phrase about ones chickens coming home to roost. I read it in some story during my convalescence the previous week, something about fate or karma or something. Anyway, just as we were starting our lesson on calming the emotions, I happened to ponder the phrase briefly—just then, out of nowhere, the large classroom was filled with squawking, flapping chickens, roosting on every possible surface—desks, chairs, the teacher’s desk and at one point, the top of my head!

“Mr. Chaucer!” she exclaimed, waving her arms to avoid the flood of chickens still appearing everywhere in the room. “Stop!”

“I can’t!” More chickens.

Desperately, she waved her wand in a huge arc. “Finite incantatum!” she commanded. 

No more chickens, thank goodness. With another flourish of her wand, the rest of the chickens vanished, all except one that puttered under the teacher’s chair. It laid a golden egg.

Professor McGonagall frowned at me. “Honestly, Mr. Chaucer,” she scolded. Bending over with some difficulty, she picked up the golden egg and made the last chicken vanish.

“Sorry, Professor.”

She handed me the egg and smirked. “Well, at least your magic is still intact. Perhaps a bit too intact. Tell me, Mr. Chaucer, are you back on that Lethargis potion?”

I hedged at that. “Well, no,” I confessed. “I know I should but…I need a little time.”

Professor McGonagall gave me a sympathetic smile. “We work out an arrangement so you can take the potion safely, George. Either I or Professor Snape can keep it in our offices, where there isn’t free access to it. Would that work?”

Actually, that was a great idea. “I suppose so. It’s just…I know I can trust people but…I don’t know. It’s just very hard coming back to all this.”

“I know, my dear. But I’m glad you did come back. You have much to learn by way of controlling that powerful magic of yours.”

“Did my father have this much trouble?”

“He got the hang of it fairly quickly, but he made mistakes, too. He put Professor Snape in the Hospital Wing more than once in those early days, to tell the truth. His magic grew in strength as his abilities improved. Severus…that is, Professor Snape had much to do with your father’s progress. Your case is different. Your magic has been repressed for a very long time but at the same time it’s also grown exponentially. That’s why it’s exploding out of you right now.”

I looked down, focusing on a lingering chicken feather, trying as best I could to feel the magic inside me, as Professor Snape had taught me over the summer. It pulsed in my heart, crackled in my veins, but I managed to rein it in enough to prevent another shower of chickens from descending on our heads.

“Professor, once I learn to control my powers, then what?” I asked, suddenly worried.

“Anything you want.”

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

“Does that mean that I can take NEWT’s like everyone else?”

“I don’t know about that, George. After all, you don’t know the theory—you haven’t taken the courses. I can’t imagine you could succeed at NEWTs at this point.”

I frowned. “I wasn’t allowed to learn the theory.”

She nodded. “I know, my dear. This isn’t your fault. In a way, your magic is like a child’s. Young witches and wizards don’t know incantations but often make random things appear or move. You’re doing this on a larger scale because you’re older—your magic is extremely potent, but it’s unsophisticated. What you and I need to do is to start to refine your powers through the use of your wand and through specific spells. We’ve only just begun, George.”

As I did rounds that night, looking for kids out of bounds, I pondered what Professor McGonagall told me. In the darkness of the attack and all its horrifying pain, I finally had received a small glimmer of hope that one day, I would be normal. It was the best I’d felt in a very long time, so when I caught Avery and Nott out of bounds that night in the seventh floor corridor, near the Room of Requirement, I happily docked them fifty points each from Slytherin, did a snappy little binding charm on the both of them and whisked them back to Slytherin House.

Jane noticed the change in my attitude the next morning as we helped to herd everyone out of the Great Hall after breakfast.

“What’s up, Chaucer?” she asked, a snide look on her face. Her braids looked especially tight that morning.

“What do you mean?” I shrugged.

“You look different today. You look…”

“Happy?”

“Did they find your attacker?”

“Not yet.”

“Then what makes you so bloody chuffed today?”

“Is that bad?”

“No! It’s great! It makes my job a hell of a lot easier when you’re not in a snit.”

I laughed. “Hey, I’m here to help. Listen, Jane, I’m sorry about all this. You’ve been great taking on extra responsibility. I promise to be at full speed as of now.”

“Good.” With that, she turned on her heel and marched off to class.

I found Theo at the Ravenclaw table, looking…strange. His hair was a rumpled mess and his robes were all crooked and sloppy. I worried that Mulciber had another go at him when my back was turned. His breakfast of eggs and bacon had gone cold, barely touched. I sat across from him, staring intently into his troubled eyes.

“Hey,” I said lightly. I was treading carefully this time—Theo has a way of being surprisingly sensitive when he’s upset. Thankfully, that didn’t happen too often, but when it did, watch out.

Theo didn’t reply right away. Instead, he pushed his eggs around the plate, still not eating. “I need to talk to you, George,” he said dully.

“Sure. What’s up?”

“Not here. Later, after class.”

“What is it?”

Theo didn’t answer. Instead, he took his schoolbag and without another word, trudged out of the Great Hall. What was going on with him? The thought plagued me all day, to the point that I could barely concentrate in any of my classes. While I managed not to make any more chickens appear, I did accidentally make Professor Longbottom’s lectern vanish right in the middle of his lecture on seaweed. We got it back, but it took another few minutes, and then it took him another five minutes to get the class settled back down.

Ellie glared at me. “Freak,” she muttered to Malachi, who sniggered.

“I liked him better when he was a pathetic squib,” he whispered to her.

“He doesn’t deserve magic,” she whispered back, not caring that I could hear them both. They both laughed.

“Better luck next time,” Malachi replied. At least, that’s what I think he said. Was I wrong? Did he say something else? I couldn’t be totally sure, as they were both whispering, but I was pretty sure that’s what he said.

My blood ran cold.


	9. The Threat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“George, something has come up, something quite serious. I’m afraid it will have an affect on your enterprise.”_
> 
> _“What do you mean?” I asked, horrified. I prayed that no one else was out to torture me._
> 
> _Snape thrust a rolled up parchment in my hands and glared at me. “Read it. Read that shit. I’ll pray you don’t sick up your dinner.”_
> 
> _Nothing could have prepared me for what I read on that parchment just then. I thought I might have a heart attack._

In the midst of everything going on, including my continuing lessons in magic, it vaguely occurred to me that I finally had enough magic to qualify as a Healer. For as long as I can remember, that was my dream, to become a Healer, just like my father. As a little boy, I used to fantasise about rushing to a patient’s side, giving them some brilliant potion I had invented, and saving their life—then the newspapers and journals and Wizarding Wireless Network would all sing my praises.

And then my dreams were dashed…twice.

The first time was when I was nine, and my father had to break the ugly, unfair news to me that as someone magically challenged, I did not qualify to become a Healer, no matter what. Naturally, magic is an essential aspect of the Healing Arts, so obviously, it was an impossibility for me at the time. It was a hard, aching lesson, but one that I learned to live with for a while. And then when I was sixteen and I could do a little magic for the first time in my life, I dared to hope again—I allowed myself to think that one day, if I just worked hard enough, I’d have enough magic to realise my dreams. To my bitter disappointment, however, I still didn’t have what it took. I was crushed.

But now, incredibly, it seemed that I had so much magic that I could likely heal the entire hospital with a single thought or whim. Things had changed in my life, though, in a lot of ways, most significantly, the work I was now engaged in. It was never a dream of mine to become a political activist or to think twice about wizard law, and yet, I had embraced this new fate with open arms. And, to tell the truth, I enjoyed the work—it’s something that’s incredibly fulfilling for me, probably because it’s such a personal issue for me and many of my closest friends. I’ve always been a bit of a nerd, so I’m not daunted or bored by research. To the contrary, I have learned so much about wizard law regarding the magically challenged that I’ve felt even more encouraged to continue my progress.

Professor McGonagall’s declaration haunted me—I could do anything, she said. Anything. I supposed that included being a Healer, though I dared not ask. If she’d said no, I didn’t know if I could face that disappointment again. I’d been through too much pain as it was these days. And realistically, my magic was so wild that I would likely wipe out my patients as soon as heal them, or even make the whole hospital disappear—maybe Falstaff is correct, that discretion is the better part of valour.

After classes ended for the day, I headed straight to the Great Hall to find Theo and see what was going on with him. He’d been moping about all day long, getting worse and worse by the hour. Perhaps he was worried about the attack, or suffering some sort of post-traumatic stress or something. Considering what Paige had told me before, it made sense.

The minute Theo laid eyes on me, he grabbed me by the front of the robes and marched me outside, not letting go of me until we’d reached the shores of the Black Lake. I tottered behind him like a poppet, but once we were alone, I more or less tore into him.

“What are you doing, dragging me out here like this?” I snapped. I hated it when Theo got dramatic like this. It never boded well for me, and I wondered how I possibly might have offended him this time.

Theo whipped out a black and red brochure and thrust it into my hands. “Take a look at that shit,” he said flatly.

The cover of the brochure read: **“UNFIT”**. Inside was a picture of one of our posters, with Theo’s smiling face on it. I gulped. Opposite Theo was this text: 

_”Squibs at Hogwarts. Squibs in the Ministry. Squibs in commerce. The more they are accepted, the more our world, our values and our future are compromised and ruined. There is a move on to change the law—if it passes, we will never be rid of inferior Squib filth, and our world will be destroyed forever. Fight this movement with everything you have! MAGIC ONLY IN THE MAGICAL WORLD!”_

My hands shook as I read. “Where did you find this?” I asked, trying my best to keep my composure.

“Common room. Ravenclaw, I mean.”

“Do you know who left it?”

Theo shook his head. “This is serious, George.”

“I know it’s serious. But we have a lot of support, Theo.”

He nodded. “It just freaked me out a little, considering what happened to you and all.”

I scowled. “You think the attack was about the movement?”

“I think it’s possible. Probable.”

That sounded astounding to me! “You mean to tell me you think someone tortured me over our campaign? That’s crazy!”

“What we’re doing is a big deal, George!” Theo snapped.

“Of course it is! Why do you think I’m doing it?” I snapped back.

“It’s going to change the wizarding world, George! This is a lot bigger than just guys like me. We’re changing the entire culture!”

“I know that! That’s the whole point!” I suddenly understood what he meant. “I guess you’re right,” I conceded. “I guess it is worth torturing someone. But I hope you’re wrong, man.”

“Me, too.”

At dinner that night, neither Theo nor I were much for conversation. I had tucked the brochure into my robe pocket until I could show it to Professor Snape, and as I ate my extremely delicious dinner without much enjoyment, I satisfied myself by watching Tom and his friend, Jeremy Spinnet. They laughed and joked around and were having a great time with some of their other friends. OK, so they were getting a bit raucous, but I didn’t care. After all, dinnertime was always a bit crazy and loud, and these guys were no louder than anyone else. And then, Ellie had to burst the bubble.

She whipped around from the Ravenclaw table and glared at me. “Hey! Would you tell those little queers to shut the hell up?” she snarled.

Theo threw a paper napkin at her. “Shut up, Ellie!” he barked.

“Nice language, Gray,” Paige sneered.

Ellie narrowed her eyes at Paige. “I realise you like to hang around with the magically crippled, Malfoy, but I’d think you’d know better than to cozy up to a bunch of faggot pretty boys!”

Malachi sniggered, but I was furious. “Cut the hate speech, Ellie! That’s ten points from Ravenclaw!” I could feel Jane’s eyes boring into me from the Gryffindor table behind me.

“Ten points? For what?” she shot back.

I laughed derisively. “For what? Are you kidding? For being obnoxious and offensive, that’s why!”

She rolled her eyes. “Hey, all I’m trying to do is keep my dinner down, so your brother and his little girlfriends aren’t helping me much.”

Tom must have heard her little tirade because in the next second, he was at her side, wand out.

“Hey,” Malachi joked, “don’t stick that wand anywhere I wouldn’t!” He and Ellie burst out laughing.

“From what I hear, Zabini,” Tom retorted, “you’d stick your wand just about anywhere!”

Malachi jumped to his feet, now with his wand out.

“You two had better stop this right now before I have to dock you even more points!” I said. “Zabini, Ellie, I think you two are finished eating.”

They both glared at me, and when I vanished their plates, which were actually half full, they looked mutinous. Ellie took Malachi by the hand and pulled him away, without another word. Tom stood there, fuming, but I’d had enough. I had to get to the heart of the matter, no matter how awkward it might be for both of us.

“Outside, Tom,” I said. “With me.”

Together, we strode out the opposite door, past the teachers’ table, ignoring the glare from Professor Snape. I led Tom down corridors, past paintings and statues and classrooms until we arrived at the large, now disused classroom where I always met with Professor McGonagall. Magically I opened the door, and magically I slammed it behind me after I ushered an angry Tom inside.

“Sit,” I said, trying my best to imitate our cousin. Tom sat, but looked away. “What was that all about?”

Tom didn’t reply. 

“Tom, you can tell me, man. You know that. What was Ellie talking about?”

“She wasn’t talking about anything!” he shouted. But then he hung his head and scowled. “You know that Jeremy is…you know.”

“I know.” Actually I didn’t, but I didn’t want to admit ignorance.

“When you were away at Head Boy training, I went to a party at a friend’s house,” Tom explained. “Look, it was totally innocent! Jeremy and I got to talking about skateboards! We were just sitting outside chatting! OK, so the corner where we sat was dark but so what!”

“So what happened?”

“Nothing! That’s what I’m saying! We were just talking!”

“But people assumed you were…”

“No! Not that I know of!” Tom insisted. “No one said a thing to us, ever! I mean, it was really obvious that we were just talking! Look, I don’t care what Jeremy does in his private…whatever, but I’m not the same way.”

“Alright.”

Tom looked troubled just then. He looked…ashamed. “You and Freddy have been successful with girls for a long time,” he admitted. “It’s just taking me some time is all.”

“Tom, it’s alright! Seriously!” I repeated. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me, I mean, you’re only a Fifth Year! Either way it doesn’t matter!”

He blushed. “I know. But I just don’t want anyone getting the wrong idea about me. I can’t get a girlfriend if they think I’m…like Jeremy!”

I laughed. “Actually, you just might. You’d be surprised.”

Tom smirked. “Yeah, well I’d rather not test out that theory if you don’t mind.”

By the time Tom and I returned to the Great Hall, dinner was just about over and a lot of the students were heading back to their common rooms or the library for more late night studying. Tom rejoined Jeremy and his friends, but I sought out Professor Snape, eager to settle a few things. He looked less than pleased to see me—typical—though I was rather stunned when he motioned for me to sit beside him at the Staff table.

“You handled that argument poorly, Chaucer,” he said without hesitation.

“I…”

“You’re too lenient,” he continued. “All three of them should have lost at least twenty apiece. There’s way too much hostility going on amongst them. You’ve got to learn to put your foot down and put those little monsters in their place.”

“Did Jane complain about me again?”

He raised an eyebrow. “No. And lest you think she’s too strict, she is not. Miss Fowler understands that she is not simply a peer or an equal. Chaucer, I gave you this position so you could get used to having authority.”

“I know, sir,” I replied defencively. “But what if I have my own way of exercising it? Maybe I don’t like to just throw it around like Jane does!”

“She does not throw it around,” he shot back. “She is doing her job, and that is all.”

I nodded sheepishly, though I still didn’t totally agree with his assessment of me. “Sir, can I come to your office later tonight? Something’s come up.”

“What is it?”

“I’d rather not say here,” I said, furtively glancing at the few lingering students still finishing their pudding.

“If this is about my daughter and her boyfriend, then I already know.”

What? “I’m sorry, sir. What?” I had no idea what he was talking about, but I felt like I should. I hoped Aidan hadn’t gotten Althea in trouble.

Professor Snape stood up grandly, tossing his napkin on the table. “Eight o’clock, then. Don’t be late.”

* * * * *

I rushed back to Slytherin House to find Althea, worried sick that she might be…in a certain condition. I hoped not, though. She was way too young for that, even by wizarding standards. What would she do if it were true? How would she get on? Would the school allow her to continue? Would she have to move away? I was sure that her father would fight to let her stay, but then again, an issue like that would probably be up to the Governors.

Thankfully, I found Althea in a solitary corner of the common room going over her Ancient Runes homework and humming the latest Weird Sisters tune, tapping her feet all the while. She looked alright to me—not traumatised or anything. I sat across from her and nudged her textbook.

“Don’t,” she snapped.

“Can we talk?” I asked her quietly.

She glared at me briefly. “I’m tired of talking about it,” she declared flatly.

“About what?”

Althea’s eyes widened. “You don’t know? George, you’re Head Boy! It happened three days ago!”

“I’ve been busy!” I retorted. “So what was it?”

Someone tittered in a far corner. Althea glared at the girl, then pointed her wand at her. “Muffliato!” she said, then winked at me. “I hate eavesdroppers.”

“So come on, tell me what happened.”

Althea pushed aside her book and pursed her lips for a moment, looking very much like her father just then. “Aidan and I got caught…”

“Snogging?”

“Shagging.”

I was pretty sure my jaw hit the table just then. I clapped my hand over my mouth. “Oh shit! Who caught you? Please tell me it wasn’t your father.”

“It wasn’t. Thank the gods he’s understanding about that sort of thing. Jane Fowler caught us in that silver room you used to go to with Paige.”

“What do you mean used to?”

She smirked. “Anyway, that Fowler bitch freaked out and actually pulled me off of Aidan.”

“She put her hands on you? She’s not supposed to do that.”

Althea frowned deeply. “It should have been sort of funny and awkward, but it turned ugly and embarrassing pretty damn fast.”

“Did she shame you?” I asked.

“She called me a slag and she called Aidan a Squib son-of-a bitch, so yeah, I guess you could say she shamed us.”

“Did you tell your father?”

Althea nodded. “He was angry with me for being out of bounds, if you can believe it.”

“Not for carrying on?”

“How can he? He and Mum lived together for years before they finally got married. He can’t exactly tell me not to have sex, especially as I’m nearly an adult.”

“True. But I guess Jane didn’t see it that way.”

“Bitch. You know, I wouldn’t have minded the punishment if she hadn’t taken the opportunity to tell me how morally bankrupt she thinks I am. And then, she had the absolute fucking gall to tell me privately that it’s bad for witches and Squibs to intermarry.”

“Did you tell your father that part?” I asked.

“No. I’m not a rat fink. But if you think this is over between me and Janey, you’re quite mistaken.”

I furrowed my brow at that. “Don’t do anything stupid, Thea. Your Dad might be Headmaster, but he still has to enforce school rules.”

“I won’t exploit my father, George,” she declared rather haughtily. “I’m willing to go down for a worthy cause.”

I smirked. “Just don’t go down on Aidan, alright?”

She laughed. “Well, at least not anywhere we might get caught!”

I don’t think that Professor Snape would have found that funny at all.

In fact, when I got to his office two minutes late, he was in a terrible mood. Most days he was surly and unpleasant, but I’d gotten used to that. After all, I’d grown up around the man, so I could generally interpret his mercurial moods. Tonight was another story completely—maybe he was more upset about Althea than she realised. I wouldn’t blame him—I’m pretty sure Freddy hasn’t told Dad about his past sexual escapades. It’s not really a subject a kid likes to chat about with their parents.

Anyway, Professor Snape was looking almost feral when I got to his office, making me feel pretty nervous that I’d been late.

“You’re late,” he growled.

“Sorry, sir. Head Boy stuff.”

“You wanted something?” he asked impatiently.

OK, so maybe he was angry for some other reason. I pulled the brochure from my pocket and handed it to him. As he read it, his expression went from annoyed to angry to fuming.

“Where did you get this?” he snapped harshly.

“Theo. He found it in Ravenclaw.”

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. “George, something has come up, something quite serious. I’m afraid it will have an affect on your enterprise.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, horrified. I prayed that no one else was out to torture me.

He thrust a rolled up parchment in my hands and glared at me. “Read it. Read that shit. I’ll pray you don’t sick up your dinner.”

Nothing could have prepared me for what I read on that parchment just then. I thought I might have a heart attack.

_PUT THEM IN THEIR PLACE._

_These Squib-loving fascists have a dangerous agenda that will tear apart the wizarding world and undermine everything we hold dear to our hearts. They don’t care that it is magic that separates us from the filthy muggle world. They don’t care that it is magic that makes us superior to the rest of the world. They don’t remember that the best place for Squibs is the graveyard, which is what used to happen, back when people had their priorities straight._

_DRIVE THEM OUT OF HOGWARTS. DRIVE THEM OUT OF SOCIETY. MAKE THEIR LIVES A LIVING HELL._

_How can you help? It’s easy! Chaucer got lucky that the poison didn’t kill him, but at least he suffered a lot for a long time. The bastard deserves to suffer even more, and he will. We will not rest until Chaucer pays with his body and mind for his betrayal of our society. We will not back down until he is on his knees begging for mercy, which we will not give to him because he doesn’t deserve mercy. Chaucer deserves to die. He deserves torture and punishment and brutality and we will give it to him. If he thinks it’s all over, he’s wrong. And once he goes, then the vile, nasty Squib retards will follow. They will collapse under our power and then we’ll never hear from them again._

_WE HAVE ONLY JUST BEGUN TO FIGHT._

I sank into a chair, my hands visibly shaking as I held the parchment—I thrust it back at Professor Snape, suddenly feeling dirty for holding it in my hands.

“Where did this come from?” I asked, my heart in my throat. I felt a chill wash through me just then.

“Sticking in the gargoyle’s mouth, by the door.”

“But this is just a copy, right? It looks like a mass distribution.”

Professor Snape nodded. “It might be. Then again, it might not.”

“I guess you don’t know who’s responsible.”

He shook his head dolefully. “It could be a single person or a whole army. They could be the ones responsible for your torture, too.”

“Could be?” I exclaimed, alarmed. “How about they are the same ones!”

“They might not be. They might just be idiotic enough to take credit for something they didn’t do, just for the sake of intimidation.”

“Why would they give this to you? They don’t really think you’d be interested!”

“I was the one responsible for the Magically Challenged to be admitted to Hogwarts in the first place,” he replied. Looking me in the eye, he continued. “And if you think I’m going to kick the Magically Challenged out over this screed, then you are mistaken.”

“So you think this is just intimidation?”

“Probably, though it would be foolish to treat this as mere intimidation. George, you and I have a hell of a fight ahead of us. I do not believe you are safe here at Hogwarts, to be honest, but I also don’t want you to leave before it is absolutely necessary.”

“You mean risk my life?” Duh. Stupid question.

“Yes, George,” he replied.


	10. Mutiny!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Jane and I quickly found ourselves inundated with all sorts of little problems throughout the day and late into the night—kids running the corridors when they shouldn’t be, kids out of bounds after hours, kids vandalising paintings or stealing random objects for no reason. The teachers were at their wits end, as were the Prefects, and it was all Jane and I could do to keep a small amount of control over things, though to little avail. The last straw came when a painting of Albus Dumbledore defeating Grindelwald was slashed, defaced and stomped on by some unseen culprit. According to the other paintings, the perp used instant darkness powder to cover their tracks, so there were no eyewitnesses._

Back in the Slytherin common room, I found Althea in the same dark corner, apparently still working on the same Ancient Runes homework. When she saw the agonised look on my face, however, she set down her quill and motioned for me to come over and sit with her. I leaned my head against hers and sighed.

“You okay?” she asked.

“No.” I wanted to tell her about the threat, but I didn’t have the stomach just then. Eventually everyone would have to know, but for now, I just needed to sit with my friend and mourn in secret.

Just then, Mulciber stomped through the common room heading for the boys’ dorm, but seeing us together, he stopped, smirked, and then moved on.

“I really hate that kid,” Althea whispered. She nudged my foot. “Daddy says his father is a complete moron and that the only reason he became a Death Eater was because he literally had no other skills.”

“What has your Dad told you about those days?” I asked, suddenly curious.

“Not much. I think he prefers to put it behind him. Plus, you know how he is. Not exactly the nostalgic type or anything.”

“I guess. I suppose it would be hard to talk about that sort of thing.”

Althea nodded, watching carefully as Mulciber appeared again in the common room, this time accompanied by Dolohov and Albert Caldwell. They stared at us for a moment from a safe distance, then left again.

“Was Caldwell’s old man a Death Eater?” I asked quietly.

“No. But he funded a lot of their activities. Rich family.”

“Guess he didn’t want to get his hands dirty.”

She shrugged.

The next morning, both Althea and I were late to breakfast—I overslept. I don’t know what her excuse was. Either way, we entered the Great Hall together, laughing and teasing each other over how we were going to have to rush through our oatmeal in order to make it to lessons on time, but when we sat down at the Gryffindor table, we were both greeted by a very huffy Paige and Aidan.

“Up late?” Paige asked. She sounded a bit on edge. Too much on edge.

“Nah,” I replied, my mouth full of breakfast. “Just lazy.” I tried to push off her irritated tone, convincing myself that she was just grouchy this morning. You never know with a Malfoy.

“Long shower,” Althea added.

“Alone?” Paige quipped, only she sounded more sardonic than witty.

Althea laughed. Maybe she missed the tone of Paige’s voice. It was possible. OK, not that possible. Still, Althea decided to play along. “As far as I know, Paige! I generally take my showers alone!”

I noticed that Aidan’s nostrils flared for a quick moment. He stood up and snatched up his bag, which I took as a cue that breakfast was now over and it was time to get to class.

“Yeah, well anyway,” I started, but Aidan was already halfway down the aisle, with Paige close behind, leaving me and Althea to scramble after them. I knew what they were thinking. I didn’t want to know, but I knew.

Why they should believe it was another story.

Of course, it was clear to me what had happened. Mulciber saw me with Althea and got the wrong idea and spread a rumour about us and then Paige and Aidan somehow heard about it and got angry. That should be easy enough to fix, right? It was just a simple misunderstanding, that’s all. 

I’m so naïve sometimes. Stupid.

In my Philosophy class that day, we studied the works of Voltaire, who went on and on about the pointlessness of optimism. Personally, I thought he was a bit of a downer, but his words also made me think a bit about myself. Maybe Jane is right about me—I’m way too nice, too lenient. How can I be an effective leader if I can’t assert my own authority? The threats against me scared me more than I was willing to admit, I guess, because of that. I started to wonder if I really had what it took to be in this position, to be in any position of authority.

What was Professor Snape thinking?

The big thing I really needed to do, despite new worries and new dangers, was to gather my committed together to break the bad news. The thought made me a bit ill—I had a feeling this whole movement could end right there and then, and if that happened, I wasn’t so sure how I’d handle it. And of course, with Paige and Aidan in a snit over an unfounded rumour about me and Althea, my doubts and fears exploded. I just couldn’t lose Paige…or Aidan. Not over something that wasn’t even true.

* * * * *

The meeting, however, would have to wait a couple of days, and not for any good reason. Jane and I quickly found ourselves inundated with all sorts of little problems throughout the day and late into the night—kids running the corridors when they shouldn’t be, kids out of bounds after hours, kids vandalising paintings or stealing random objects for no reason. The teachers were at their wits end, as were the Prefects, and it was all Jane and I could do to keep a small amount of control over things, though to little avail.

The last straw came when a painting of Albus Dumbledore defeating Grindelwald was slashed, defaced and stomped on by some unseen culprit. According to the other paintings, the perp used instant darkness powder to cover their tracks, so there were no eyewitnesses. Professor Snape called the entire staff plus me, Jane and all the Prefects to his office to discuss the situation.

“We are experiencing what is amounting to a mutiny,” he said stiffly. We all sat and listened gravely as he went on. “It is my belief that the guilty students are a minority, however, they have proven themselves to be adept at covering their tracks, including the use of blackout powder.”

Professor Sinistra raised her hand. “Are these the same people responsible for the attack on Mr. Chaucer, Severus?”

Professor Snape threw me a doleful glance. “We are still not certain who tortured Mr. Chaucer.” We collectively bristled at the word _”tortured”_. “However, in light of recent events, it is a likely assumption that there is a direct connection.” He then pulled out the parchment and read the threatening letter to all of us. Some audibly gasped as he continued to read.

“Severus, is it safe for Mr. Chaucer to remain here?” an ashen Professor McGonagall asked.

“For now,” he replied, though I wasn’t so sure I believed him. I started to wonder myself.

“And do Nigel and Ginny know of this threat?” she pressed.

“I’m planning on telling them this evening, as a matter of fact,” he said.

Professor McGonagall rolled her eyes. “You know they’ll have a fit, Severus. They’ll pull George out of here immediately.”

“Not necessarily, Minerva,” he said. “Knowing Nigel…”

“Exactly,” she shot back. “After seeing his son tortured, you know very well that he’ll pull him out. No argument.”

“But I don’t want to be pulled out!” I protested. “Look, I have a proposal, to try and catch these people.”

“But George, if all this is about you and your little project,” Jane interrupted, “then why don’t you just stop the project for now?”

“Drop it?” I exclaimed. “My LITTLE project? Are you serious, Jane?”

“Just until you’re out of school, then start it up again full time,” she suggested. “I’m not trying to insult you, George! I’m just thinking of your safety and the general peace around here!” She folded her arms with a huff. 

“But my plan might work!” I insisted.

“Out-thought the rest of us, have you, Chaucer?” Dorsett sneered.

I glared at him, the stupid prat. “Maybe. See, in my Dad’s old ward at St. Mungo's, the Healers do bed checks, to make sure the patients aren’t wandering about the ward and getting into trouble.”

Dorsett sat back in his chair and smirked. “So we’re treating the students like Incurables now, are we, Chaucer?”

I hoped Professor Snape would tell him to shut up, but he didn’t.

I pressed onward. “See, in order to tell who’s running about the corridors at night, all we have to do is bed checks in the dorms. Just take note of who’s not there.”

“And what time are we supposed to do this, Chaucer?” Dorsett drawled. “Prefects have to sleep, too.”

“I’d say about two in the morning,” I said, trying to maintain my composure. Professor Snape’s desk rattled.

“That’s preposterous!” Albert Caldwell exclaimed. “You expect us to get out of bed at two in the morning to check up on our own housemates?”

“You’re out of line, Chaucer,” Dorsett added.

“That is enough out of both of you,” Professor Snape hissed at them. “Let me remind you that as Prefects, you are expected to take on extra duties from time to time. If this somehow interferes with your beauty sleep, I shall understand your needs and simply find others who are more willing and able to take on the duties of Prefect. Shall I do that, gentlemen?”

“Look, you guys, we should only do this three times, and at totally random intervals,” I explained. “Just list the names of anyone not present and give them to me in the morning. That’s it.”

“I think it’s fine,” Jane said, ignoring Dorsett’s angry stare. “If it’s just three times. What is the time frame?”

“Two weeks tops,” I said.

“I can agree to that,” she said, nodding her head lightly.

“Me, too,” Tom added.

Dorsett threw him a snarl. “Figures you would, Chaucer! Far be it from you to go against your own brother!”

“What is the big deal?” Jane snapped at him. “It’s not like he’s expecting you to donate a lung or anything! Get over it!”

The other Prefects murmured amongst themselves, but in the end, they deferred to me, which was a big relief. After a few more minutes of planning and bickering, the teachers and us finally came up with a solid plan to ferret out the culprits. Once we knew who was constantly out of bounds on any given night, then we could target the guilty, and let Professor Snape and my uncle Ron take it from there.

But…

I didn’t totally trust some of the Prefects, in particular, Dorsett and Caldwell. They made no secret of their disdain for me and their dislike of the Magically Challenged. Thus, after everyone left the Headmaster’s office and went off in their own directions, I pulled Jane aside and escorted her into a disused classroom. Pointing my wand at the door, I put us under the Muffliato charm.

“What’s that?” she asked.

“Privacy,” I replied.

“What is it, George?” she asked impatiently. “I’ve got things to do.”

“I won’t keep you long, Jane,” I replied. “Look I think you and I need to take an additional tactic in this bed check thing.”

“We should assist the Prefects.”

“Actually, we should do rounds, like usual.”

“I thought we weren’t doing rounds on those nights! You can’t just change the plan like that, George! You can’t go unilateral like that!”

“I’m not! I’m suggesting something a bit different, but something that will give us a more certain answer of what’s going on.”

She frowned at me. “Are you suggesting we shouldn’t trust the Prefects?”

“Maybe some of them. Not all.”

“Who?”

“No names, Jane. Not yet. Are you familiar with the Disillusionment Charm?”

Jane raised a curious eyebrow. “That’s not on the curriculum, is it?”

“I wouldn’t know,” I replied coolly. “Remember? I took different classes from you. You make yourself blend into the background, like a chameleon sort of.”

“Are you suggesting we spy on our own Prefects?”

“No. I’m suggesting we look for ourselves at who’s really out of bed, regardless of what the Prefects say.”

Jane crinkled her nose for a moment, as though she had just smelled sulfur, but then she smiled…almost. Her eyes narrowed a bit dangerously, leaving me to wonder at what she must be thinking.

“Alright, George,” she said firmly. “Let’s do it. But let’s keep this between ourselves. No one should know.”

“I agree.” With that, we shook hands and parted ways, promising to see each other in my rooms the following night at two. I hoped I was just overreacting, but with the threat of further bodily harm, I felt fairly justified, especially if I ended up needing to convince my parents to let me stay.

* * * * *

“You are NOT staying, George!” Mum barked.

“I have to!” I shot back fiercely. We gathered in the Headmaster’s office that evening, fighting furiously over the threats against me. Only Professor Snape remained sitting casually at his desk, lingering over a glass of cognac as the three of us bellowed at each other in true Weasley-Chaucer fashion.

“George, there is no way we’re letting you stay,” Dad said firmly.

“That’s ridiculous! You had death threats when you were a student, Dad! Remember when all those Death Eaters wanted a piece of you? Remember how you stayed anyway and fought them? And what about when you were in the Ministry? There was a bet on for your life! Remember that?”

“That was different!” Dad exclaimed.

“It’s NOT different! We’re back at the old argument again from last year! You think that this movement isn’t a big deal!”

“It is a big deal, George, I understand that!” Dad replied hotly. “But it’s different from what the Death Eaters posed. They were an immediate threat to everyone. This issue you’re tackling is extremely important, but it can wait six months. You can understand that, can’t you?”

This was unbelievable! I hardly knew what to do or say at that point, I was so steamed at the both of them. Here they were, both no strangers to conflict and violence, but the second that I might get into something, all of a sudden I’m a five year-old Squib again! So all I could do was stand my ground and take full advantage of the feistiness of both sides of my family.

“Dad,” I went on, “perhaps I should remind you that I’m an adult! I’m seventeen years old, nearly eighteen! You can’t tell me what to do any more.”

Dad glared at me. “And how is it that you are a student at this school, George? Charity?”

“Nigel,” Professor Snape said sternly.

“What?” Dad snapped.

“You’re being a prat. George is handling things quite well, in fact.”

I could barely believe it! Severus Snape standing up for me, against my father? Then again, he and Dad argued often—I guess they had a long history of constant battles and make-ups. Dad’s that way with a lot of people, me included apparently.

“He has a choice, Severus,” Dad seethed. “His political movement or Hogwarts. Not both.”

My blood boiled. “You can’t do that to me, Dad!” I shouted. “I’m not a child!”

“Do not shout,” Professor Snape ordered me.

I prepared to shout back anyway, but I stopped, remembering something…wonderful. “Say, Dad, how about a compromise?”

Mum and Dad rolled their eyes, but Professor Snape looked on, apparently enjoying the spectacle.

“Seriously, George,” Mum cautioned me, “we’re not out to punish you or anything…”

“Listen, Mum, please,” I said, cutting across her. “I’m sorry for interrupting, Mum, but I really do have an idea. Back when you all were fighting Lord Voldemort, you invented that Shield Potion to protect you from even the worst curses. Didn’t it protect Mr. Malfoy from the Cruciatus Curse?”

“Against curses, yes. Against potions, I’m not so…” Dad started.

“It worked against your Demagus Potion, and it likely works against Veritaserum,” Professor Snape interjected.

Dad sighed dramatically. “Well yes, against those, but…”

“What makes you think what happened to George was any more drastic than your own Demagus Potion?”

“You must be joking, Severus!” Dad barked. “You SAW what it did to him! If you think I’m going to let my son get poisoned again then…”

“Whatever it was, Nigel, it didn’t leave any permanent effects, whereas your Demagus Potion permanently removes a wizard’s powers. Just ponder on that, boy.”

To my great relief, Mum nodded. “Come on, Nigel. You can have it ready in no time. I won’t have a Weasley turning into a coward.”

Poor Dad tried so hard to hold his ground, and then Mum did it. She brought it up.

“Nigel, if you’re willing to electrocute your own son…”

“Alright! Alright!” Dad bellowed. “I’ll make the damn potion!”

“Thanks, Dad.”


	11. Voices in the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The feeling of the Disillusionment Charm is really weird—basically, you smack yourself on the head with your wand and then you feel this sort of warm, liquidy feeling, like someone just smashed an egg on your head. But the idea of being invisible is actually really cool. It’s so strange not even to be able to see myself or my wand or even a hair or a toe of myself as I walked along the corridors, silent as a ghost. Jane and I agreed to wear quiet shoes so no one would hear us, just in case. Thank goodness neither of us had a cold._

Everything was all set for the next night’s first bed check of the student body. The Prefects would check each room at 2:15 in the morning, plus checking the common rooms and the bathrooms, then write down the names of anyone missing. After three times doing this, at random intervals, we should have some idea of who was consistently out of bounds. At the same time, Jane and I would do our rounds, concealing ourselves with the Disillusionment Charm.

Snappy.

All I could hope for was that Jane had kept her word this secret part of the plan would remain a secret. I wanted to trust her, and I knew I probably could trust her, but then again, she ran about with some fairly dodgy characters from Ravenclaw. Between Rob Dorsett and Malachi Zabini, plus some of her other friends, I started to wonder a bit about Jane Fowler. If she could stand a bigot like Dorsett, snog him every day and not seem to see a flaw in him, then what hope did I have that I could trust her to keep her word?

So…

Jane met me in my rooms, Disillusion ourselves and spy. The feeling of the Disillusionment Charm is really weird—basically, you smack yourself on the head with your wand and then you feel this sort of warm, liquidy feeling, like someone just smashed an egg on your head. But the idea of being invisible is actually really cool. It’s so strange not even to be able to see myself or my wand or even a hair or a toe of myself as I walked along the corridors, silent as a ghost. Jane and I agreed to wear quiet shoes so no one would hear us, just in case.

Thank goodness neither of us had a cold.

“This had better work, George,” she groused. I wish she’d lighten up for once.

“It’ll work.”

“Well, we’d better not find anyone about.”

I nodded in agreement. I wanted full compliance, for my own sake if nothing else.

We split up, going along our usual routes, going directly to where there had been the most trouble these last few days. At first, everything was quiet, and I hoped that this meant that everyone was finally complying with school rules and actually sleeping. It was so quiet everywhere, making me feel a little like I was in a church or some sacred space. The paintings all slumbered and snored softly, not seeing me as I crept past. I couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty about all this, but on the other hand, this was self-preservation. After all, if a cabal was really after me to kill me or torture me again, I had to be ready for the absolute worst.

For a long time there was nothing. No movement, no sounds, no life. But wait…was that voices? Maybe just the ghosts. Maybe just Peeves causing trouble. Maybe a wandering House Elf. But wait…no, not a House Elf. The voice was laughing, whispering, and then another voice, a male voice, responded, laughing back, secretively. Something was up.

I walked in the direction of the voices, but they were moving pretty fast, though I could hear no footsteps. Could they be in stocking feet like I was? Were they just as cautious as Jane and I had been? The voices traveled onward, around the corner, making me jog, then sprint after them. And then I came to a screeching halt at what I saw—three boys were hard at work defacing one of our posters—this one featured a smiling Theo Scrimgeour—and writing some pretty foul stuff on it, which I won’t mention. They threw the poster on the ground and spat on it, over and over, then used their shoes to squash the spit into Theo’s face. I wanted to rage and rant, but I had to hold it in, for two very important reasons. First, I needed to keep my presence a secret, and second, because my magic might make me do something unexpected and terrible. It was a feat of heroism that I managed to stand by and watch and not throw a tantrum.

“We should do this to Scrimgeour himself, not just his ugly picture,” one of the boys said.

“Serves the muggle right!” They laughed, but I remained still, my mind now reeling. How would I break this to Theo?

Noting down the boys’ names—Avery, Mulicber and Carrow…unfortunately all Slytherins—I continued on, as silently as I could. Thankfully, they never sensed my presence. As I walked the corridors, I found no one else…that is, until I reached the seventh floor corridor, just near the Room of Requirement. Two boys and a girl—Ravenclaws—stood in a small circle, talking heatedly. I got as close as I dared, listening in. They were all masked by dark shadows, so it was nearly impossible to make out who they were, that is, until I recognised a voice. A girl’s voice.

“We have to do it this way!” one boy said.

“It’s too dangerous!” the girl cautioned. Ellie, I was sure. My blood ran cold.

“It’s the only way to get rid of him for good,” the first boy said. I didn’t know this boy at all, but I wanted to choke the life out of him.

“We’ve already gone way too far!” Ellie hissed. “What you did to him was inexcusable!”

The second boy laughed. “It was your idea. We were just going along.”

My stomach felt sick. I wanted to vomit just then, but I held on for dear life.

“My idea was to mess with him a little, not to practically kill him!”

“You said whatever we decided was cool with you,” the first boy replied haughtily. I cocked my ear a bit closer, almost recognising the voice. It wasn’t uptight enough to be Dorsett, but it wasn’t snotty enough to be Malachi. Or was it?

“Look,” the first boy said, “I didn’t know it was going to do that! That wasn’t what I intended, but now that it happened, I’m glad! The arrogant, spoilt prat had it coming!”

Wait a second. It was…

“You are sick, Malachi!” Ellie snapped. “I have no problem messing with him and making his life bloody miserable, but I stop short of torture and violence!”

“Then you’re a traitor to our cause!” the second boy said. I still didn’t know who he was.

“That is crap!” she retorted. “I am not a traitor! I am still committed to what we’re doing! But I won’t be a part of any more torture! It stops here!”

Malachi stepped away from her—I wished I could have seen his facial expression, but it was too dark. My stomach lurched dangerously from horror at what I just heard, from a girl who supposedly used to be in love with me.

“You’d better get your priorities in order, Ellie,” Malachi seethed. “After all, as you just said, messing with his potion was your idea, and I’ll be happy to inform the Wizengamot of that fact.”

Ellie lunged at him and slapped him with a loud SMACK! To my shock, Malachi smacked her right back, harder. Were I not under the Disillusionment Charm, I would have intervened, done a sticking charm on the lot of them and owled my uncle Ron, but as it was, I had to let it happen. Thankfully for Ellie, the second boy, whom I still didn’t recognise, stepped in.

“Stop it, you two!” he barked. “Someone will hear us!”

Ellie stepped back, still furious. “Fine. We’ll leave it alone for now, but we’re not done with this conversation.” With that, she turned on her heel and stormed off, presumably back to Ravenclaw. I stifled a sob that had welled up dangerously, slinking back to my rooms in Slytherin. All I could hope for was that this was a big mistake and that Ellie would never dream of bringing serious harm to me. My insides ached.

* * * * *

“So, how did it go?” Jane asked me the next morning at breakfast. She noted my barely eaten bangers and eggs and made a face.

“Later,” I replied gravely. I didn’t want to tell her I’d spent the rest of the night in my bathroom sicking up my dinner, then tossing and turning and being tormented by nightmares about a knife-wielding Ellie stabbing and slicing me up while a laughing Malachi held me down.

Jane smirked. “You look like hell, George,” she said. “When did you get in?”

“I said, later,” I snapped. A curious Theo pretended to ignore us, but I knew he’d heard every word. I also knew I’d have to tell him that boys from my house were plotting to hurt him, which wouldn’t be too hard for them considering that Theo has no way of protecting himself against wizards. Finally, I couldn’t handle Theo’s scrutiny or Jane’s persistent questions—I vanished my plate to the kitchens and excused myself.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Theo asked. Now he was concerned.

“Fine. I just didn’t get much sleep,” I confessed. To my annoyance, as I turned to go, Jane followed close behind, eager to talk. Outside in the Entrance Hall, I finally stopped just long enough to tell her I’d see her later.

“Come to my rooms after lessons,” I said. “We can go over things then. Actually, we do have something to discuss that’s pretty important.” Not waiting for a response, I walked off, heading for Professor McGonagall’s office for my lessons in magical control.

In theory, I should have gone straight to the owlery to send a message for Uncle Ron to come and arrest Ellie, Malachi and the other boy. That’s what Jane would have done, for certain. Jane wouldn’t have waited a second. I don’t understand myself sometimes. I guess I wanted to know more, to understand why they had done this and didn’t seem to be ready to stop their campaign against me and what else they had in store for me. Plus, this wasn’t proof that they had written the threat—anyone could have, including them, but including the Slytherin boys I’d caught as well. Maybe it was a coincidence. OK, it was a long shot, but I was willing to consider it.

I don’t know…maybe it was like the Murder on the Orient Express. Maybe they all did it. Or maybe not. After all, if Mucliber and his crew were budding Death Eaters, they wouldn’t want any association with someone like Ellie, as she’s muggle-born. On the other hand, if they weren’t Death Eaters, then I guess all bets were off and I was doomed. But if they were Death Eaters whereas Malachi and Ellie were just prejudiced against anyone without magic, then would there be some rift between the two factions? And if there were a rift, who would bear the brunt of it?

I could think of nothing else the entire day, but instead of turning to Professor McGonagall or even to Professor Snape for guidance, I kept my thoughts to myself. And I still didn’t owl Uncle Ron.

That night, Jane came by, eager to talk. We compared lists from the Prefects with our own lists. The Gryffindor and Hufflepuff Prefects had made an accurate count, which matched with what we had observed in the corridors. For the most part, the Slytherin and Ravenclaw Prefects were also accurate, though not entirely.

“Damn,” Jane grumbled. As she scanned, the lists, her eyes narrowed. “That sonofabitch,” she murmured.

“What?”

“My Prefects counted everyone present, but you said you saw Ellie and Malachi and another Ravenclaw boy?” she demanded, shaking the list in her fist.

“It was definitely they. Seventh floor corridor.”

Jane frowned. “It’s pretty dark up there. You sure it was really they? You’re sure the other boy was in Ravenclaw?”

“I’m positive of whom I saw, Jane. Well, the other boy I don’t know. Heck, he could be in Slytherin.”

“You don’t know a boy in your own house?”

“It was dark and I didn’t recognise his voice!”

She eyed me suspiciously. “But you recognised Ellie and Malachi?”

“I know their voices, Jane! Plus, they addressed each other directly! At least I think they did.”

“You’re suggesting that my Prefects are lying! You’re telling me that my own boyfriend would lie to me!”

“I didn’t say anything about your boyfriend!” I shot back heatedly. “You’re the one jumping to conclusions, not I!”

“So if they used names, then what were they talking about?” she demanded.

I opened my mouth to speak, but stopped. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it matters! If it doesn’t matter, then why are we doing this?”

“Alright, it matters, but…I need to talk to the Headmaster about it.”

Jane glared at me. “George, you can’t keep this from me! I’m Head Girl and I have a right to know! You and I are partners, remember? I want to get to the bottom of this as much as you do.”

“I know! It’s just…” I stopped, fearing that I just might break down and cry, something I definitely didn’t want to do in front of Jane. “Look, I’m almost sure they were talking about what happened to me, that torture potion.”

“Are you saying they’re involved?”

“I…I think so, but if there was some misunderstanding…”

Jane sat back and slapped her forehead in exasperation. “Misunderstanding? George! Listen to yourself! If you heard what you heard, then that’s it!” She stood up, giving me a hard look. “I don’t care what house they’re in. We need to see the Headmaster about this right now. No more delays!”

“But she said she didn’t intend to have me tortured,” I replied. It baffled me why I would suddenly defend Ellie. What a sap.

“She’s involved! Let the authorities sort it out!”

But that wasn’t going to be so simple. That afternoon in Professor Snape’s office, I gave my testimony to my uncle Ron and to Jane’s father, both of whom were conducting the inquiry into the attack against me. They both took copious notes with a Quick Quotes Quill as I rattled on about what I saw and heard. In truth, it was extremely difficult to talk about—the thought that Ellie was in some way responsible for the torment I endured was just as painful as the torture was, maybe more so. Such a riot of emotions tore through me as I spoke—hate, anger, regret, hope, so many more, and by the time I was done, I was worn out with new angst.

“Father,” Jane asked, “is this enough to arrest them?”

Uncle Ron sighed heavily but let Fowler reply.

“No, Jane, it’s not,” he said gravely.

“But they admitted they did it!” she protested. “They said as much! You have to arrest them!”

“It’s not so simple, Janie,” Fowler replied sternly.

That was hard to take. I couldn’t understand it. I sank into a chair, tears snaking treacherously down my anguished face. I can’t explain it. I didn’t know what to think or feel or do any more. All I knew was that the closest we’d gotten to an actual culprit in this whole thing didn’t seem to be good enough. But what was? Would this ever come to an end?

“I don’t understand it,” I bawled like a big baby. “They practically confessed it! They said they were glad it happened, even if they didn’t intend for it to torture me like that! But they let it go on!”

“But you see, George,” Uncle Ron said, “there’s a missing link there. The source of the potion. Whoever is the source of the potion is the one who intended to do such damage to you.”

“But that doesn’t mean you can’t arrest the others!” Jane exclaimed.

“With no guarantee of a confession, we won’t be able to prove that this was anything other than a terrible accident, I’m afraid,” Uncle Ron replied gently. He put a hand on my shoulder and let me grieve. 

I cried bitterly for a little while, but suddenly, I had no heart in it any more. I’d thought that I’d answered the question of what had happened to me, found a definitive answer regarding the plot to get rid of me. It suddenly occurred to me that perhaps there was more than one faction wanting me gone from Hogwarts, for more than one reason. Ellie and Malachi didn’t like my work with the Magically Challenged, and they clearly didn’t like me, so I could see why they’d want to run me out of school.

But what of the other boy? Were his intentions so clear cut, or was there a darker, more sinister reason to attack me? Had he just tried to scare me away, or did he hope that the potion would kill me? I understood my uncle jus then, but I mourned even more, for now there were far too many painful questions and absolutely no answers.

Uncle Ron and Fowler stood up. “George, we’re not giving up,” Uncle Ron said. “You have to understand that these sorts of inquiries can be very complicated.”

“Why?” I cried.

“Because in this case, we’re dealing with multiple parties, some of whom might not actually be at Hogwarts,” Fowler replied. “It’s doubtful that any student could have made such a potion…”

“I would have to disagree,” Professor Snape piped up. “Speaking from personal experience with dark magic, I’d say that anyone with the wherewithal to create such a hellish potion could do exactly that. Some of our NEWT students are quite extraordinary potion makers, including Miss Fowler here, as well as Mr. Dorsett, Mr. Zabini and others.”

“Severus, you’re not lumping my Jane in with these others, are you?” Fowler shot back, outraged.

But Professor Snape waved him off blithely. “All I am suggesting is that it is not beyond the scope of an astute student to create an extremely powerful and effective potion, whether for good or for ill. I am not suggesting that my own Head Girl would dream of doing such a terrible thing to Mr. Chaucer. Quite the contrary, in fact.” He gave Jane an assuring nod. “But Miss Fowler knows, perhaps better than Mr. Chaucer, that a student’s abilities with magic is only as good as their inner character and conscience.”

“Why better than George?” Uncle Ron asked defencively.

“Because he is relatively new to magic and has no experience in a regular magical classroom,” Professor Snape replied coolly. “To be sure, George’s magic is extremely potent, but that is only a recent development.”

“What this amounts to,” Fowler interjected, “is that we are dealing with many possibilities. It could be that one of these students made such a potion, but it is as likely that they obtained it from someone outside of the school, and considering how many people strongly disagree with George’s civil rights movement, the potion could have come from anywhere.”

“But doesn’t that mean that Ellie and Malachi should be arrested so you can interrogate them?” I asked hopefully.

“And what would they say?” Fowler replied. “Do you really think they’d confess to such an outrage?”

“What about Veritaserum?” I pointed out. “That’s what Dad used when he…”

“We know quite well how your father conducted interrogations, Mr. Chaucer,” Fowler snapped. He seemed really annoyed with me by then, but I didn’t care. “There are antidotes to Veritaserum, including your father’s Shield Potion. We figured that one out a few years back,” he added sourly.

“George, we’re following every lead we have,” Uncle Ron said, trying to sound assuring. “If you think I’ve given up, then you’re barkers.”

Barkers indeed. It would have to do, but that didn’t mean I had to like it.


	12. Scandal and Outrage!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _More giggles as the day went on. More looks of disgust, of curiosity, of some vague sense of moral outrage everywhere I went. Something was up, but I had no idea what. Girls licked their lips sarcastically at me or moaned sexually as I passed, screeching, “Come on, George! Oh yeah!!!”_
> 
> _What was going on?_

Jane and I returned to the Great Hall for a snack and to recover from such a traumatic meeting. I was still red-eyed from my emotional breakdown, and to my astonishment, Jane was suddenly extremely nice to me. She poured out my tea and even brought me a scone, which I accepted gratefully. It puzzled me a bit why she was suddenly being so nice to me, but I decided not to complain or question it. If the girl wanted to be nice for a change, who was I to stop her?

“So what was all that your Dad was talking about back there?” I asked.

“What do you mean?” Jane asked, casually buttering her scone.

“Did something happen between my father and yours a while ago?”

Jane gave me an incredulous look. “Are you telling me you don’t know what happened?”

“What?”

“Your father never told you what happened to my great-uncle?”

“No!”

“So you never heard the name Orric Fowler?”

“No. Should I?”

“Oh my gods, George!”

By then, Althea and Theo joined us at the table.

“Thea,” Jane asked, “did your father ever mention the name Orric Fowler to you?”

“The guy that got killed? Yeah, a little. He just says that Orric Fowler brought him and Mum together again. Other than that, he doesn’t really talk about it. Apparently a bad scene.”

“You guys are amazing,” Jane replied, disgusted with the lot of us.

“He was Chief of Staff at St. Mungo's, right?” Theo asked. “Didn’t he get murdered? I think my grandfather talked about it once.”

“Exactly!” Jane said. “My father is his nephew. Anyway, back when your father was just starting out as a Healer, my great-uncle was his supervisor. Apparently they hated each other because your father was doing some illegal experimentation on Professor Longbottom’s father, and then my great-uncle was murdered.”

“My father didn’t kill him!” I protested. Actually, he might have, but I wanted to think my father would never kill.

“Of course he didn’t,” Jane went on, “but he was blamed for it at first. He even got arrested and had to spend time in jail.”

“In Azkaban?” I exclaimed, horrified.

“In a Ministry holding cell,” Jane corrected me. “Your father was cleared of all charges, but just barely. He testified under Veritaserum but that’s not what cleared him.”

“Then what did?” I asked, now hungry to know. Why wouldn’t my parents mention such a story?

Jane shrugged. “Apparently Mr. Longbottom confessed, though it turned out he thought he was killing your father, Althea.”

“My father?” Althea snapped, furious at the suggestion.

“Well he was a Death Eater,” Jane reminded her. I thought that was a low blow.

“What of it?” Althea seethed. “He walked away from them YEARS ago! Since before Harry Potter was even born!”

“Well yes,” Jane said, totally unphased by Althea’s outburst. “But let’s face it…”

“She’s a nasty skank who can’t keep her legs together,” Ellie sneered, passing casually down the aisle toward the end of the Ravenclaw table.

I grabbed onto Althea to make sure she didn’t jump up and smack Ellie down.

“Don’t, Thea,” I hissed at her. “Ellie’s going to pay soon, so just keep your cool.”

Althea leaned her head towards mine for a quick moment…just long enough for Paige to see. Paige threw us both a look of sheer hatred and stomped off. A few girls sitting at the Hufflepuff table watched and giggled.

“They’re so disgusting,” one girl whispered to the others. They giggled again.

“His brother’s a fag.”

“Gross!”

“That whole family is nasty.”

More giggles as the day went on. More looks of disgust, of curiosity, of some vague sense of moral outrage everywhere I went. Something was up, but I had no idea what. Girls licked their lips sarcastically at me or moaned sexually as I passed, screeching, “Come on, George! Oh yeah!!!”

What was going on?

A couple of days later, I called a meeting for those of us involved in the Squib Rights movement, just to let them know what was going on regarding the threat and to discuss future actions. I didn’t want to give them the option of backing out, but I knew I had to, especially after I had witnessed Theo’s picture so awfully defaced. It wouldn’t have been fair to force people to stay if they felt afraid to continue, but I hoped they would be brave and stick with our progress. After all, I wanted to go over what would be said to the Ministry and how we would present ourselves to them.

So when only Althea and Theo showed up in my rooms that evening after dinner, I was more than a little peeved and disappointed. This was no time to skive off when we were just about to make a huge breakthrough. There was much to discuss, so it was crucial that everyone was there.

“So where’s the gang?” I asked, trying to be as casual as I could manage.

“Not coming,” Theo said.

“Why?” Althea demanded. “That can’t be right.”

“You know the rumours, right?” Theo asked, a bit taken aback. “About you two?”

“What about us?” Althea snapped, offended. “Are we not allowed to be friends?”

“That’s not what the rumours are, Thea,” Theo said. I sort of knew what he might say, but I didn’t want to admit to it. Too embarrassing.

“Is Mulciber still spreading fake rumours?” I asked, trying to laugh it off. “Wasn’t that last month?”

Theo made a face. “Fake? That’s not what I hear.”

“What? Are you serious, Theo?” I shouted. “You’re not believing what that Mulciber ape is saying, are you? Get real!”

“Look, man, I’m not saying they’re true or whatever…”

“Whatever?” Althea yelled. “What is wrong with you, Theo? You know damn well that George and I are NOT involved! For crying out loud, we’re fucking cousins!”

Theo nodded, looking glum. “That’s pretty much the rumour, Althea, that you are fucking cousins.”

I blanched, but Althea went into a rage. “You can’t believe that!” she insisted. 

“You don’t believe that bullshit, do you, Theo?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at him.

“OK, now I haven’t seen them, but apparently there’s some pictures going around that…”

My heart skipped a beat. “Pictures?” I hollered. “What do you mean? That’s impossible!”

But it was possible, or so Althea and I discovered to our horror later that evening. Summoned to the Headmaster’s office, we were met not just by a very huffy Professor Snape, but also by an indignant Paige, an ashen-faced Aidan, my parents, Mr. Malfoy, who looked like he wanted to punch me, Aidan’s parents, all the heads of houses, and for some reason, Jane Fowler. The air felt still in that office as Althea and I enterd, the walls seeming to crash in on me as we stood there stupidly, sizing up the uncanny gathering. I felt naked, on display before unfriendly eyes. And then, like lightening, the moment I stepped into the office, Paige rushed at me and smashed me hard across the face—her father quickly ripped her off me, but he looked like he wanted to have a go at me next.

“Draco!” my father bellowed, jumping to his feet. “Stop! Stop it both of you!”

In the midst of the fray, Professor Snape looked like he wanted to murder me—for the first time, I saw the real Death Eater in him, in all their hardened violence. His eyes grew cold, glancing at me as if I were a total stranger, a mortal enemy, a vile traitor. My knees shook with dread.

“What’s going on?” I asked tenuously. Althea stood next to me looking mortified.

“Quite a lot, apparently,” Professor Snape replied snidely. “Would you two care to explain this?” He thrust a pile of…pictures at us. Gods! Theo was right! But what were they?

I thought I might actually pass out as I looked at them, each one more sexually graphic than the previous. It was unmistakable—these were pictures of Althea and me in every possible sexual position imaginable, from the natural to the kinky to the downright disgustingly and unthinkably pornographic. I won’t describe them, but I will say they were the most erotic, dirtiest, raunchiest pictures I’d ever seen, worse than the muggle skin magazine I once found at Mr. Malfoy’s when I was twelve. 

Althea broke down in bitter, scared tears. “Daddy! It’s not me!” she cried. “It’s NOT ME!!! I didn’t do this!”

I was at a total loss for words. It was bad enough that these pictures existed, but to think that my own parents had seen them was beyond endurance. “I…I don’t get it,” was all I could muster.

“It’s not me, Daddy!” Althea mourned, burying her face in her shaking hands. “We never did that! I swear it! It’s not me!”

I unconsciously let the pictures fall to the floor, my mind and body frozen by shock and horror. I couldn’t bear to look up, and especially not at my parents. “Who saw these?” I asked.

“Everyone,” Jane said. “The pictures have been going around for about a day and a half, from what I heard.”

“And you said nothing?” Professor Snape seethed.

“I only just found out, sir!” she replied forcefully. “I came to you the moment I heard!”

“This isn’t me,” I said. The words felt like daggers in my mouth. Saying them made me ashamed. “I wouldn’t do this. I WOULDN’T DO THIS! Paige, you know I wouldn’t…” But I couldn’t cry about it. Althea continued to wail and moan horribly, now wrapped in her father’s protective embrace, but all I could do was just stand there like stone, too upset to speak or think.

“Well there has to be some explanation for this,” Mum said. “Darling, this clearly is you in the photograph! Perhaps you were Imperiused. Perhaps your memory was modified.”

“NO!” I insisted. “NO! That is not me in that photograph! Paige, you have to believe me! That is not me, no matter how it looks!” But then I paused, looking straight at my father. Dad gasped and Professor Snape let go of Althea.

“Polyjuice Potion,” I whispered. “Ellie and Malachi. It has to be!”

“You can’t prove that,” Jane pointed out.

“That’s not true! It can be proven!” I retorted sharply.

“You’re only guessing based on what you saw in the dark shadows,” Jane said. “That’s not enough to start throwing about unfair accusations.”

“I know it was they, Jane. I know it, and so do you.”

“How can you prove it?” she asked.

“That’s not the point,” I replied.

“Of course it’s the point,” she argued. “That’s the whole point!”

My anger rose for the first time, and it felt good. This was somehow different from the previous attack, which had filled me with fear and dread. That was bad enough, but now that they had attacked not just me, but Althea, and by extension, Paige and Aidan. I was furious, but determined.

“We all saw those pictures, George,” Mum said. “They were sent to all of us. That’s why we’re here, to get to the bottom of this.”

“IT’S NOT ME! THIS IS NOT RIGHT!!!” I bellowed. “Ellie and Malachi are intent on breaking me down and torturing me even more! Don’t you all get it? I am not going to let them get away with this! Not for a second!”

Althea remained inconsolable, which overwhelmed Aidan. He rubbed his eyes continuously, though he kept a safe distance from Althea. Paige, however, remained hardened, righteous in her fury.

“Clearly, Severus,” Dad said, “something must be done. If Ellie and Malachi are guilty…”

“Leave it to me!” Professor Snape barked. “You can be assured that this will be dealt with…immediately and definitively!”

“Yes yes, Severus,” Professor Higgs interrupted, “but we must be sure that Chaucer is telling us the truth.”

“My DAUGHTER is not a liar, you twit!” Professor Snape snarled. “Nor is Mr. Chaucer. And if you think I am foolish enough to allow them to be slandered like this, you are quite mistaken!”

I turned to Paige, still afraid she didn’t believe me. “Paige,” I said, “you do believe me, right?”

No response. Mr. Malfoy frowned.

This was crazy! “Paige, you know me!” I pleaded tearfully. “You’ve known me all your life! How can you think that I would suddenly turn into a person like that? Why would I do that? Why would I jeopardise a relationship that I cherish more than anything?”

A tear rolled down her cheek as Mr. Malfoy whispered something in her ear. She let out a single sob, then threw herself into my arms, now weeping openly. We held each other close as I let her cry. It felt so safe holding her, as if no matter what happened, I’d always have Paige. To be honest, I wasn’t so sure that I would, but I didn’t want to think about that. I wanted to satisfy myself knowing that I could somehow take refuge in her presence, but I also had to admit that Ellie and Malachi had scarred our relationship, too. Another reason to resent them deeply.

After a few more tears and apologies and talk, we all parted ways, with the parents returning home and everyone dispersing back to their houses. Althea and Aidan disappeared together to who knew where, and Paige and I walked with Jane back to the Great Hall for an evening snack. Jane laughed.

“What?” Paige asked, outraged by Jane’s strange attitude. After all, Althea and I had just been publically shamed. What was so damn funny all of a sudden?

“I don’t think you’ll have to worry much about Malachi and Ellie for a while,” Jane snorted. “If they were stupid enough to implicate Snape’s own precious princess in a sordid sex scandal, then they’ve pretty much screwed themselves for good!”

“George!” someone called from a far distance. “Hey! George!”

I turned to see June Jessup running towards us, out of breath.

“George! Your Dad…is still here…” she panted.

“Take a breath, June,” Jane ordered.

June nodded. “He wants to talk to you before he goes.”

“I thought he already left,” Paige noted.

I shrugged. Knowing Dad, he probably stayed behind to discuss the intricacies of frog spawn with Professor Snape. They did that sort of dorky potions talk way too much. It was the sort of talk that could clear a room faster than mass apparation. I left June behind with the others and headed reluctantly back to the Headmaster’s office, where I found both Dad and Professor Snape seated by the window, arguing over the flavour of mead. Typical.

“You wanted to see me?”

“Sit with us, George,” Dad said. Was I in trouble for something else? I gulped and sat. “You’re not in trouble, by the way,” Dad added. 

“Then what’s up? Did you want to go over more details?”

“Not for now, George,” Dad replied. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about Tom.”

“Tom?”

“Tom. And I wanted Severus to be here as well, as this is something that could become a problem considering the threats against you.”

I had a bad feeling about this, but I went ahead and let Dad talk.

“Tom sent me an owl a few days ago,” Dad continued. “I want you to know that he is going through a very difficult time right now.”

“Is this about girls?” I blurted out. Professor Snape glared at me.

“In a way,” Dad replied. “You do know Tom’s friend, Jeremy?”

“Sure. They’re pretty much together all the time,” I said, not wanting to say what I suspected. I wanted Dad to say it. Actually, I wanted Tom to say it.

“Tom needs your support right now as he works out a few things about himself,” Dad said. “I want you to talk to him, let him know you’re on his side no matter what.”

“I tried talking to him,” I interjected. “He told me he’s just a late bloomer.”

“I think maybe he wanted you to believe that because he didn’t want to admit the truth to you.”

“But why? Tom knows I’m always there for him!”

Dad nodded. “Tom looks up to you and Freddy, George. You know he does. Put yourself in his place though, with two older brothers all hot and heavy with girls, and he’s giving Jeremy Spinnett a second look.”

“Have they…” But I stopped, finding it difficult to finish the question.

“That part Tom hasn’t told me, and to be honest, it’s not really my business,” Dad replied.

“Why couldn’t Tom tell me this himself?”

“Could you come out to Freddy?” Dad asked.

He had a point.

“Just be good to him,” Dad said.

“Sure Dad.”

“And tell him to be careful on that skateboard.”

* * * * *

There was way too much to think about all of a sudden! I should have been taking my Lethargis potion again to offset all the stress I was going through, but I just couldn’t. Ever since I was poisoned, I didn’t want to take another potion ever again. I hadn’t touched pumpkin juice since then, either. To be blunt, I did not want to have a conversation with my younger brother about sexual identity—maybe I’m just squeamish about those really intimate, really personal discussions. It wasn’t that I had a problem with Tom being gay or anything, I mean, Tom’s a great guy no matter what.

In a way, though, this issue with Tom was a welcome distraction, though I shuddered to think of how this could be used against him. Dad was right—we really did need to have this discussion. I worried that Tom would think I was judging him or something. He’s a tough kid, but he can be alarmingly sensitive, especially about personal stuff like this. I didn’t want to see him get hurt, and considering what had been done to me, I knew that this could get very ugly very fast.

But I also had to worry about the Squib Rights movement, which I’d been forced to neglect ever since all this trouble started. I guess that was my attackers’ goal—to make me neglect and abandon the whole movement. But they didn’t know who they were dealing with. You can torture a Chaucer and rake him over the coals, but you can’t make a Chaucer give up on something so important. No way in hell. I’m too much my father’s son to let a few jerks get in my way.

Thus, a tactical shift was needed. Meeting of the minds was critical at this juncture, considering all the crap going down. So, the meeting that nobody wanted to attend suddenly became of primary importance. Again, we gathered in my rooms: myself, Althea, Theo, Paige, Aidan, Nick, June, little Dursley, Tom, Lydia and Tom’s friend, Jeremy Spinnett. I was still feeling my anger over the pictures and tried to channel that energy into our next endeavour.

“We’ve been called out on the proverbial carpet,” I started, “and we have to respond proactively. It’s important for all of us to band together and act as one, despite any risks.”

“George,” Althea said, “tell us about the threats.”

“Threats?” Theo exclaimed, alarmed by the mere suggestion.

I knew this was going to scare everyone, but it had to be said. “See, the Headmaster received a threatening letter and…”

“They threatened him?” Althea asked furiously.

“Not exactly,” I replied. “They threatened me. Those pictures were a part of the threat.”

“You said it was Ellie and Malachi,” Paige said. “How can you be sure?”

“Because I heard them a few nights ago, whilst on rounds. Jane Fowler and I wanted to see for ourselves whether people were really out of bounds, so we devised a way. That’s when I saw Ellie, Malachi and someone else.”

“Maybe the other boy was the one who made the potion!” Tom suggested.

“It’s possible,” I replied. “I don’t know who it was. What I do know is that this campaign of theirs is as serious as ours. They want to see the nonmagical be thrown out of wizarding society altogether, whereas we want to see them accommodated.”

“What do you mean ‘thrown out’?” Theo asked.

“If they got their way, the Magically Challenged would not be permitted into Hogwarts any longer.”

“But are they doing anything about it?” Theo asked, his voice growing angry.

“Beyond torturing me and spreading foul rumours? I don’t know. What I do know is that we can’t let them think they can bully us into silence.”

“But what are they threatening?” June asked.

“Mostly grievous bodily harm against me,” I replied. “Look, I’m not afraid. They’ve done their worst…”

“Are you sure?” Tom asked darkly.

“Are you saying you want to back out?” I shot back.

“No! I don’t want to back out!” Tom said.

“Nor do I,” Aidan added. The rest mumbled in agreement…except Theo. I felt sick.

“Whatever’s out there is aimed at me…” I started.

“I saw what they did to my picture,” Theo stated, cutting across me.

“Theo…”

“They pissed on it, George.”

“They didn’t,” I protested.

“They did. They slashed my face. They cut out my eyes. They didn’t do that to Aidan’s or Nick’s pictures. Just mine.”

“It was probably Mulciber having another go at you, mate,” I said, trying to be dismissive. It didn’t work.

“Well maybe it’s no big deal to you, George, but it is to me!” he snapped.

“It is a big deal, Theo!” I snapped back. “But…”

Theo jumped out of his seat and headed for the door. “You go on and have your movement and change the world,” he grumbled. “But I’m done.” With that, he stormed out, leaving us all to wonder whether our opponents had won.


	13. An Uncomfortable Conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I conjured two tall glasses of milk and a huge chocolate cake for both of us. Tom scowled._
> 
> _“Since when did you lay out the hospitality?” he asked glibly. Naturally, he took a large piece of cake._
> 
> _“What do you think?”_
> 
> _Tom paused. He looked down, scowling. “I guess Dad must have talked to you.”_
> 
> _“Whatever you might have said in confidence he never revealed,” I told him. I didn’t want to think Dad and I were gossiping. “But he’s worried about you. So am I.”_
> 
> _“So if I tell you I don’t want to talk about it, you’re not going to listen, right?”_

Theo’s departure was totally understandable, completely reasonable. After all, he’s Magically Challenged, he’s extremely vulnerable, and he’d been targeted by the likes of Mulciber before, on more than one occasion. I knew he had every right to back out. On the other hand, he broke my heart.

Theo and I go way back—we’ve been best mates since we were just small kids at the Patil Academy. At the time, everyone thought I was Magically Challenged, so Theo and I always sort of understood each other and supported each other as equals. At Hogwarts students, though we’re in different houses, it was easy to keep our close friendship alive because we had most of the same classes, endured the same struggles as Squibs, and felt the same disappointments when we both realised just how much of the magical world was denied to us, based solely on our inability to do magic.

When my magic finally surfaced in my Fifth Year, everything changed for us, and for the first time in our lives, Theo and I suffered a major rift. No longer were we the Super Squibs, ready and able not to do magic even in the most dire situations. No longer did we share the same obstacles and for us, that was devastating. Theo is a big part of why I started this Squib Rights movement in the first place—I couldn’t bear the idea of Theo or Nick or Aidan or June forced to live on the streets or in a homeless shelter simply because the rest of the wizarding world cast them out.

Theo was the heartbeat of the movement, as far as I was concerned, and with him gone, I felt…empty.

We remained friends, of course. That didn’t change. And in reality, he remained supportive of the movement, even if he refused to associate himself with us publically any more. I wanted to understand and to tolerate his decision, but it was hard for me, on many levels. I felt guilty about feeling resentful towards him, but I couldn’t help it. Maybe I shouldn’t have felt betrayed, but I did. After all, no one gave him a vicious poison that put him in hospital for over a week. Is that selfish of me?

But there was still the issue of Tom to handle, so I had to set aside my resentments for my brother’s sake…for now anyway.

The group made a huge list of topics for us to research and discuss, keeping in mind the inevitable statement we would get to make to the Ministry. Actually, I was pretty excited about that. When Sasha Shaklebolt told us the news of this potential meeting, I had spent lots of time imagining just how it would go. What would I say and who would be listening? Would I get to address the Minister himself or just a panel? Of course, I could have spoken to the Minister for Magic any time I wanted, as he and my father were good friends, but this was a bit different. I was sure that wizard law didn’t come into being over the dinner table.

Once our vague plans had been made and a new meeting date had been set for two weeks from now, everyone retired back to their houses—but I motioned for Tom to remain behind. Paige looked a bit disappointed, but it couldn’t be helped.

“Brother stuff,” I said.

“Later then,” she said, blowing me a little kiss. “Bye, Tommy.”

“Later, Paige.”

I conjured two tall glasses of milk and a huge chocolate cake for both of us. Tom scowled.

“Since when did you lay out the hospitality?” he asked glibly. Naturally, he took a large piece of cake.

“What do you think?”

Tom paused. He looked down, scowling. “I guess Dad must have talked to you.”

“Whatever you might have said in confidence he never revealed,” I told him. I didn’t want to think Dad and I were gossiping. “But he’s worried about you. So am I.”

“So if I tell you I don’t want to talk about it, you’re not going to listen, right?”

“In light of everything going on, I think we need to talk about this.”

Tom sighed, taking a long drink from his glass. “What’s there to discuss?”

“I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Who says I will?”

“Haters.”

“I can take care of myself, George. I might be…but I’m not some weakling!”

“I never said you were!” I shot back defencively.

“I don’t think people care one way or the other who you date, Tom, but some of these people will use your…preference to get to me!”

“So you’re afraid of having to defend me?”

“That’s not it! Look at what they did to Althea! I hate to think of what they’ll do to you and Jeremy!”

Tom squared his broad shoulders indignantly. “So hide away? Stay in the closet?”

“No!”

“Then what, George? What do you want me to do?”

“Just be open with me, alright, man? If anything happens, ANYTHING, I want to know about it. I want to know names, places, everything.”

“So be a tattle-tale?” Tom wasn’t impressed.

“Tom, you have to see the larger picture here. Your being gay just adds fuel to the fire and gives them another way of forcing my hand. If you think they’re going to leave you alone, then you’re deluded. Just talk to me. That’s all I ask.”

Tom nodded. “You haven’t touched your cake.”

We ate in silence for a few minutes, neither sure of what to say next, letting the flavour of the cake fill the void we both felt just then.

“George,” Tom said. “Are you alright with my being…gay?”

“Well, you were gay last week and last year and the year before that, so…yeah. I never had a problem with you before, except when you turned my face purple when we were little.”

We laughed.

“And it didn’t go away for three days!” Tom crowed. “That was one of my better moments!”

Hey…

“Tom, you just sort of made those things happen, right? No wand, no incantation?”

“Well you know me, George. Wands are somewhat useless for me.”

“True.” More silence. “So how long have you and Jeremy been…seeing each other?”

“What I said before was true, you know, about the party. We’ve only been going out for a couple of months. And no, we haven’t been shagging each other. I’m too young for that sort of thing.”

“True. So, do you…love him?”

Tom stared down into the dregs of his empty cake plate, pondering his answer. “I don’t know, actually,” he finally admitted. “We’re good together, but…it’s too soon. Jeremy’s not so much into Quidditch, and there’s only so much we talk about skateboards.”

I chuckled. “Then again, sometimes talking is overrated.”

Tom smirked. “You have a dirty mind, George. Maybe that was you in those pictures!”

“Don’t even suggest it!” I retorted. “But seriously, man, are you sure about this? I mean, you haven’t exactly dated girls or anything.”

Tom paused, then nodded. “I get it.”

“No, I mean, I’m not trying to say you shouldn’t see Jeremy.”

Tom laughed. “Let me ask you something, George. You like Paige?”

“Yeah, of course. “

“You’re in love with her, right?”

“Yeah.”

“But how do you know?” Tom asked. “You haven’t dated any blokes yet.”

OK, he got me. I laughed. “OK, you win.”

“Listen, Georgy Porgy, I’ve got homework, so I guess I’ll see you?”

“Yeah.”

Tom stood up to go, but then hung back sheepishly. “Hey, uh, thanks, I guess.”

“Sure.”

“I know you’re concerned about me, George, but I’ll be fine. I swear.”

“I know.”

“It’s just…it’s hard sometimes. People can be real shitheads sometimes, you know?”

“I love you, kid.”

Tom cuffed me on the arm. “Love you, too, big bro.”

* * * * *

The Disillusionment Charm was incredibly convenient, as it turned out. I could do my rounds in secret when I wanted to, and I managed to gather some pretty juicy details about what people got up to at night when they were supposed to be in bed. Now I’m not saying that I was going to turn into some sort of blackmailer or anything…then again, I realised that I was gaining a lot of leverage against some pretty nasty pieces of work. This could be fun. It wasn’t enough to mask my extreme disappointment in how the case was going, and it didn’t make up for the fact that my attackers were untouchable so far, but it also gave me hope that if I was around at just the right time, maybe I could catch them saying or doing just the wrong thing.

What did take me by surprise was finding a sobbing Jane Fowler in the Silver Room one night. I was invisible, so she didn’t know I was standing there, watching her—I could reveal myself to her like that, but that might be rude. Knowing Jane, she’d hold that against me forever and make my life even more complicated. I stepped out of the room quickly, took the Disillusionment Charm off, and then re-entered the Silver Room pretending that I had just arrived.

Jane looked horrified and offended by my intrusion. She sat there on the floor, all scrunched up and red-eyed and sniffling. Her braids looked looser than usual, her robes a rumpled mess. I hardly knew her just then. I figured something pretty serious must have happened because THIS was not the Jane Fowler I had grown to know and slightly fear.

“Hey, are you alright?” I asked. Stupid question. Obviously she wasn’t! I squatted down next to her, but I kept my hands to myself.

“No!” she snapped. “What kind of question is that?”

I decided to let her have her tantrum. “You want to talk about it?”

“No,” she whimpered.

“Come on, Jane, it’s like you always say. We’re partners. We’re supposed to confide in each other.”

To my slight horror, Jane suddenly burst into violent tears, heaving and sobbing and mourning some terrible trauma.

“My gods, Jane! What happened? Is your family alright?”

“We broke up! My stupid boyfriend and I broke up!” she spat.”

“Geez, Jane, I’m really sorry…”

“I’m not!” she declared, cutting across me. “That stupid, rat-faced asshole! I hate him!”

“Well what did he do?” Secretly, I rejoiced. Dorsett really was a stupid, rat-faced asshole.

“I’ve been a real fool these days, George,” she said, drying her eyes. She blew her nose with a loud honk. “I didn’t realise until recently that I’ve been acting like a hater, and I don’t mean to! My father never raised me to be bigoted, but…all that time around Dorsett and Ellie and the others sort of rubbed off on me.”

This was entirely unexpected! I hardly knew what to say. “I heard what you said to Althea, in this room.”

Jane burst into tears all over again. “I’ve been such a bitch! What must people think of me?” She sniffled and struggled to compose herself. 

“So what does that have to do with you breaking up with Dorsett?”

“Because he thought what Ellie and Malachi did to you and Althea was funny!” She paused, her mind working through a new thought. “And because he…he was the one who took the pictures.”

“How long did you know this?” I exclaimed. I was furious! How could she know and not say a word?

“He just told me, George! We were in here…you know…doing stuff, and then he just blurted it out, just like that, like it was nothing!”

“And he expected you to be alright with it?”

She snarled. “Pretty much. He thought I should start to take part in what they’re doing.”

“Gods, Jane!”

“I told him to go to hell, and…he hit me.”

“Oh my gods! Jane, you need to report this! That is not okay!”

She nodded. “I know, George. No one has ever done that to me before. I never thought he was capable of that, but then again, if he’s taking part in what Ellie and Malachi are doing, then…” She stifled a sob. I put a hand on her shoulder.

“You’re a strong girl, Jane,” I said. “You’ll get through this alright. It just takes time.”

“I know.” She sniffled again. “George, I’d like for you to come with me to the Headmaster about this. I don’t know if I have enough information on Rob to advance the case against them all, but if I can help it along, then I want to.”

But I frowned. “You’re not putting yourself at risk, are you? These people are hard-core.”

“You shouldn’t carry this on your own. Partners, right?”

“Right.”

Jane looked down at the pile of tissues in her lap. “I’m sorry, George. I know I’m a bitch sometimes and I’m not always sympathetic. I’m sorry if I put you off.”

“It’s alright, Jane. Seriously.”

And then she really threw me. Jane leaned over and actually gave me a hug. What else could I do but hug her back? I was pretty sure that Paige would be furious if she saw us like that, sitting on the floor of a lovers next hugging each other. But it was for the sake of survival, even of friendship. It would have to do.

* * * * *

Professor Snape was less than impressed with Jane’s evidence against Dorsett, but he was angry enough about the abuse that he planned to take immediate action. Not only was Dorsett to be given seven weeks of Saturday detentions with Professor Snape, which meant he had to quit the Ravenclaw Quidditch team, but he would also be stripped of his Prefect badge. That hurt.

“Hogwarts does not reward abusive behaviour with privilege and power,” he said stiffly.

“I think that’s appropriate, sir,” Jane agreed. Personally, I think she was doing cartwheels inside, though she was far too stoic to show it.

“Unfortunately, Miss Fowler, this other evidence is not enough to impress the Law Enforcement Office, however, it does give us cause perhaps to discover evidence in other ways. You have used the Disillusionment Charm, have you not?” he asked her.

“Yeah…yes, sir.”

“And have you ever created a memory to be used in a Pensieve?”

“No, sir. Not as of yet, however, I am keen to learn.”

“Good.” Professor Snape turned his glance to me—I had a feeling he was glowing on the inside, but like Jane, was too much of a stoic to let it show. “Now then, George, this situation has already gotten far too out of control, and it needs to stop immediately. At this juncture, we know who is likely guilty but have no way of connecting them to these incidents. This must change.”

“I agree, sir,” I said. Jane nodded.

“I have discovered in my life that it is often necessary to take subversive action in order to get results. This is what I am asking you to do, Miss Fowler.”

“To be a spy?” she asked, fascinated.

“To be a sneak is more accurate. There is much you can do under the Disillusionment Charm, such as, a thorough search of the dorms.”

“I can do that, sir. Perhaps when everyone is at dinner?” Jane suggested.

“Precisely so.”

“What about me, sir?” I asked.

“You have a campaign to conduct. You are busy enough as it is. And besides, there are other things you can do in the meantime, if you only use your imagination.” He raised a sarcastic eyebrow. “With a little imagination, Mr. Weasley-Chaucer, you can learn to become a real menace.”

It puzzled me. Me? A menace? I didn’t exactly see myself that way, to be honest. Still, it could work, though I had to figure out exactly how I could make myself a menace. I was sure Professor Snape didn’t mean for me to become some violent vigilante or anything. But on the other hand, I reckoned, maybe there were other, less harmful ways of getting a little revenge and wearing them down.

I plotted and plotted, telling no one of my plans. It was so easy for me to conjure anything, just by a mere thought. So what if I suddenly thought of Ellie with a big red clown nose?

Ellie screeched the next day in the Great Hall. Everyone around her, except for Malachi, burst out laughing at the sight of a huge, round, bright red nose on Ellie’s face.

“What’s going on?” she screamed. “Get it off, Malachi!”

Malachi tugged at it—what really should happen to a clown’s nose when you squeeze it? Shouldn’t it squeak? A little squeak wasn’t quite what I wanted, though. More like a resounding honk, like a goose—yes, that would do.

Ellie honked and honked each time Malachi touched her nose, making everyone around shriek with laughter at her expense.

The next day we had lentil soup at lunch, and I noticed that Malachi took quite a lot of it. Well, we all know what happens to the body when you eat too many beans, so…

Every time Malachi opened his mouth to speak, his words were drowned out by the loudest, most disgusting and smelly flatulence I could possibly imagine—and as a guy, I can imagine quite a lot of that sort of thing. At first people thought it was hilarious, but pretty quickly, they became overwhelmed by the stench reeking loudly out of Malachi, and after a couple of minutes of ridicule, they cleared the table and found friendship elsewhere, leaving Malachi, Ellie and Dorsett alone.

But I wasn’t done with them.

A few farts and a big nose were nothing. I wanted more. I admit I wanted them to suffer, so I had to control myself. After all, I didn’t want to lower myself to their standards of behaviour. And then, at the end of dinnertime, a fierce glare from the Staff table told me I was summoned to speak to the Headmaster. I prayed he wouldn’t flay me for harassing the Ravenclaws.

“Sit,” he ordered, facing the wall behind. Obediently, I sat, turning away from the students—I didn’t want them to see my expression in case they might suspect me. Professor Snape bent close to whisper in my ear. “Don’t forget to make Zabini’s trousers drop when he stands up to leave,” he said, very businesslike.

I snorted—thank the gods I was facing the other way! “I will, sir. Is that all?”

“For now.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“You’d better hurry. It looks as if they’re leaving soon.”

I got back to the Hufflepuff table just in time. Ellie, Malachi and Dorsett were just finishing up—the farting had stopped and Ellie’s nose was getting a bit smaller now. So what would have been a funny way of making Malachi’s trousers drop? Should I vanish his underpants? No, not in front of First Years. Ah! I had it!

On cue, Malachi stood up, brushing the crumbs from his robes and trousers—he stepped out into the aisle to go, walking ahead of his comrades. BAM! Down the trousers went, revealing a pair of pink underpants with yellow baby duckies. The room exploded in laughter and wild applause, forcing a red-faced Malachi to stumble over his trousers, which he had difficulty pulling up, and to try and dash out of the room. But I imagined that watching him move in slow motion would be fun, and just like that, Malachi moved like a pink slug. It was priceless.

OK, so it was a bunch of harmless pranks, and I probably wasn’t going to win anything by giving them a hard time, but maybe if I stepped it up a bit more, then just maybe I could wear them down in the end. Who knew? Maybe something good would come of it. All I could at this point was hope.


	14. Brothers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _We walked for three blocks in relative silence, taking in the cold winter air as we went. I sensed that Freddy wanted to talk, but on the other hand, he wasn’t saying a word._
> 
> _“Nice out, isn’t it?” I observed. When all else fails, talk about the weather._
> 
> _Freddy didn’t answer._

One thing was for sure. Having Jane Fowler on my side finally really changed things for me. Pretty soon, I found that life at Hogwarts was almost pleasant. Sure, I had to chase down oafs like Mulciber and Dolohov and put them in detention, but it was somehow alright. I felt sure that in time, they would get their due for what they had done, that is, if they were guilty of helping to torture me.

I had finally hit my stride as Head Boy, and as November thankfully turned into December and it was time to start thinking about the holidays, I started to feel a sense of peace, even if my attackers hadn’t yet been caught. It wasn’t as if I had forgotten the whole incident. How could I? I still had nightmares about it from time to time, and I still couldn’t be anywhere near a glass of pumpkin juice. The smell made my skin crawl sickeningly, and the memory of the intense, relentless pain I’d suffered was still fresh in my body’s memory.

But Jane was right—I had a job to do, so I had to get on with it. And in truth, being Head Boy was a distraction from all those bad memories, and since I still hadn’t gone back to taking Lethargis, I needed as much distraction. My magic was finally getting under control, too. All those days harassing Malachi and Ellie had really helped me out. I not only kept up the barrage of bodily sounds against Malachi, but I also managed a tricky little charm one day that made Ellie chirp like a bird every time she spoke. That one was hilarious! My other favourite was when I managed to make Ellie’s ears grow slightly larger every day, so that by the end of the week, they were hanging over her shoulders like an elephant’s!

The best part was that I told no one what I was doing. No one other than Professor Snape had any idea that I was the one pulling all these pranks!

But there was the issue of Rob Dorsett. Recently broken up with his uptight girlfriend, punished with interminable detentions with the Headmaster, and thus off the Quidditch team, and worst of all, stripped of his post as Ravenclaw Prefect, he was gunning for revenge. Naturally, that meant I really had to watch it, but I felt empowered, too. I knew the scumbag was involved in torturing me and in the sex scandal, and though I still had no solid proof, I was determined to make him pay. I figured that the worst had already happened, so I had nothing to lose.

The day before the Christmas holiday, I managed to make beans shoot out of Ellie’s ears. I made popcorn explode out of her schoolbag during her Potions class, and when she sat down for dinner in the Great Hall, I made her plate vanish, then reappear, then vanish every time she tried to take a bite of food.

“Someone’s sure after you, Ellie!” someone exclaimed jubilantly.

Ellie scowled and tried to take another bite of dinner. She managed to get a couple of peas onto her fork before the plate vanished again.

“Who is doing that?” she demanded. Everyone laughed. Ellie swirled around to face me, furious. “Hey, Chaucer, do something about it!”

“Yeah, Chaucer,” Dorsett piped up. “You’re the Head Boy, so do your bloody job!”

I shrugged. “How am I supposed to figure out who’s taking the mickey out of you?” I said helplessly. “I don’t see any school rules being broken.”

Jane nodded. “The bylaws of the school mention nothing about harmless pranks, Dorsett. I guess you’ll just have to figure it out for yourself.”

Ellie narrowed her eyes at Jane. “Oh, I think I can guess who’s guilty, Fowler!”

Jane threw up her hands in mock fear. “Well it’s not me, love! I’ve got better things to do.”

Ellie’s hair turned pink.

* * * * *

The Christmas holiday this year was a bit different for me—it would be my last one, and thus, I wanted to make it extra fun and memorable. Paige and I planned to see each other every day, and especially now that I had figured out how to apparate, I could get to Malfoy Manor any time I wanted. Paige wasn’t quite of age yet, though that didn’t stop her father from teaching her how to apparate anyway. In time, Paige and I would race each other, to see could get to which location the fastest. Mostly I won, but she always beat me to the shores of Loch Ness.

Over the holiday, I also got a chance to see Paige’s brother, Abraxas, still hard at work for the Wizarding Social Welfare Service. He had worked there for two years now, serving the needs of the wizarding homeless population, most of whom were Magically Challenged. It was Abraxas’ work, in fact, that gave me the inspiration for my Squib Rights movement, and in fact, had it not been for Abraxas’ friendship and support, I never would have gotten as far as I did. According to Abraxas, nothing had changed on the Squib front.

“I have to tell you, George, things are a bit anxious around here these days,” he said. We stacked tins of vegetables and fruit in the shabby storeroom at the shelter. “Everyone is still talking about that demonstration, but not everyone likes it.”

“What do the people around here say about it? I mean the people you serve?” I handed him a huge tin of peaches, which he put on the very top shelf.

“Mixed reviews, actually. Some of them couldn’t care less about voting or about which door of the Ministry they’re allowed to enter, but some of them are pretty fired up.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“Your posters and brochures have been really effective, mate. I always keep plenty on hand. I guess I figure they deserve to know how much the Ministry is against them.”

“I’d be pretty peeved if I were they.”

Abraxas’ handsome features darkened somewhat. “Lots of people are pretty peeved. Some of them unfortunately have started militating against the Magically Challenged.”

That didn’t sound right. “In what way do you mean?” I asked, not sure I wanted to know the answer.

Abraxas shrugged. “Well, you know how it is. For the most part, the Magically Challenged have been pretty much ring-fenced, but these last few months, things have changed a bit. I’m starting to hear more and more stories of them being roughed up and even hexed by wizards and witches. Mostly minor stuff…”

“Mostly?”

Abraxas hesitated. “Last month, one guy got Stunned pretty bad. They had to take him to St. Mungo's for treatment.”

“Blimey! I had no idea! But I don’t remember reading about that in the _Daily Prophet_.”

“Nothing to report, as far as they’re concerned.”

“So they’re not sympathetic to the cause?”

Abraxas laughed bitterly. “Since when was that rag on the side of progressive change? Come on George, get real.”

I scowled. “Say, you coming over to dinner tonight?”

“I hear I’m meeting Tom’s gay lover!” Abraxas crowed. “I hear he’s shagging a Spinnett.”

I choked. “Well, I don’t know that they’re shagging quite yet, mate. They’re a bit young for that.”

“Freddy okay with it?” Abraxas asked.

“Freddy? What does that matter?” I replied, furrowing my brow. “Mum and Dad are fine with it so what else matters?”

“Don’t ask me. I was just curious.”

“Do you think Freddy wouldn’t be okay with it?”

“Hard to say. A person can talk a good liberal game, like Freddy does, but unless he’s put to the test, then we’ll just have to wait and see.”

* * * * *

It was hard to tell whether Freddy was okay with Tom and Jeremy. Like any other couple, my younger brother and his…boyfriend held hands under the table and teased each other incessantly. For me it was nothing new, as they acted that way all the time at school, minus the hand-holding. True, I’d never caught them snogging, but I figured that was none of my business. But for everyone else at the table, this was something entirely new, and I was getting the distinct idea that more than a few were slightly uncomfortable watching them.

Freddy barely looked up from his plate, in fact. I was disappointed in him, but I knew I had to give him a bit of a break. He wasn’t as close to Tom as I was—he’d been in Healer training for two years now, so he and Tom had grown apart somewhat. Plus, Freddy was busy with Sasha, along with Abraxas and his girlfriend, Aurora, so even when we were all home, his mind was terribly distracted. 

And now, as Chief of Staff at St. Mungo's, my father was in charge of Freddy’s training program, which was more than a little uncomfortable for both of them. Freddy was a strong student at Hogwarts, but he managed to get by on sheer cleverness—but all that caught up with him as a Healer, where the rigours of the classes were far more than they were at Hogwarts. Freddy’s grades his first year were marginal at best, something he wasn’t quite used to. And now that Dad was in charge of Freddy’s internship at the hospital, Freddy was more than a bit on edge.

But then I really blew it. Freddy was just telling a story about how he nearly cocked up a potion he was supposed to give to a patient, and we all laughed at his slipshod antics—Dad laughed a bit less than everyone else. Anyway, just then, I said something incredibly stupid.

“Say Freddy,” I blurted out, “if Dad gives you bad marks, don’t kill him, alright?”

Nothing. Dead silence. 

Uncle Ron muttered “Shit,” under his breath. Mum dropped her fork, and Mr. Malfoy bobbled his glass of wine.

“Gods, George,” Dad whispered, his face ashen. He sounded really hurt. I felt awful.

“I’m sorry,” I said in a small voice. “I…I’m sorry.” I pushed my chair back and stood up. “I’ll help clear the table.” 

But no sooner had I thought about clearing the table, all the dishes vanished, as did the leftovers and Mr. Malfoy’s expensive bottle of wine.

“What the hell?” Freddy exclaimed. Tom and Jeremy laughed and cuddled each other affectionately.

“George!” Mum snapped. “Bring it back!”

I panicked. “How?” I asked, getting frantic. I’d just hurt my father’s feelings, then I rudely made the whole dinner vanish…what next? My mind raced.

“George, take a breath,” Tom coached me. He stood up and placed a hand on my shoulder, to give me some confidence.

“At least he’s still got magic,” Mr. Malfoy grumbled to Mr. Potter, who sat next to him. Mr. Potter smirked.

I shut my eyes to block out distraction, wanting only for all the dishes and all the food to return to the table. And again, in a flash, everything returned…and then some. Not only did we end up with our set of dishes, but every dish we owned, plus Mr. Malfoy’s wine and six other bottles of wine from our own reserve, plus nearly all the food in the house. It made such a huge pile on top of the table that Dad had to place a freezing charm on it to keep it all from falling over.

What else could one do but laugh?

“My goodness, George,” a loopy Mrs. Potter blithely observed, “it looks to me as if you’re suffering from an excess of twilloping brumbles.”

That was it. Uncle Ron lost it first, and soon, we were all pounding our fists on the overly crowded table, shrieking with laughter. Tom stole a quick kiss from Jeremy, but no one seemed to notice.

Freddy steered me out of the dining room so that Mum and Lydia could put everything back in its proper place—Tom and Jeremy helped, but Dad, Mr. Malfoy, the Potters and the rest of us retired to the living room, where Dad poured out glasses of port for everyone, including me. He also passed out cigars—I didn’t take one, but Freddy did. So did Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Potter. Uncle Ron turned it down, though I bet he would have taken one if Aunt Hermione weren’t glaring at him.

“So, brat,” Mr. Malfoy started, “you’re eighteen soon, yeah?”

“Yeah.” I took a sip of port and coughed lightly. Mr. Malfoy smirked.

“So how are you spending my money?”

“As wisely as I can.”

“So no junkets to Monte Carlo?” he joked.

“Not yet. I don’t have any Felix Felicis, and I’d hate to gamble without it,” I replied.

“Since you’re not shagging your cousin apparently and you’re not gambling it away, how are you spending my money?”

Dad rolled his eyes. “Since when did it cost money to shag someone?”

“Oh please, Chaucer!” Mr. Malfoy groaned dramatically.

“Hey, mate, just don’t make that suggestion around Severus. He might go Death Eater on your pasty white arse.”

“Then tell your son to answer my question,” Mr. Malfoy shot back. He took a long drag on the cigar. Cigars smell like garbage.

“Promotional materials still,” I replied. “We did a new brochure this month that’s set to go to press in a couple of days. We’ve got new posters, too. And after Christmas, I’m doing a couple of interviews. One for _Witch Weekly_ and one for _The Portal_.”

“Not the _Daily Prophet_?” Mr. Malfoy asked wryly.

“Apparently they’re not on our side,” I said. Abraxas scowled.

“Alright, Shaklebolt,” Mr. Malfoy said, turning his attention to Sasha, who sat curled up next to a slightly drunk Freddy, “when’s your old man going to give Chaucer his hearing?”

“You’re a pushy prat tonight, Malfoy,” Dad observed.

“I like getting my money’s worth,” Mr. Malfoy shot back.

“You have to ask my Dad,” Sasha replied. “I don’t know his schedule.”

“Well I suggest we get this thing done before someone tries to kill George again,” Mr. Malfoy declared. Granted he was pretty drunk, but I think he was also being serious.

Freddy took that as a sign to change the subject…or perhaps get the heck out of that room. He gave Sasha a little kiss, then nodded at me, standing up with a grunt. “Say, George, let’s get some brother time, alright?”

I froze for a second, but then Dad gave me a half nod. I stood. “Wanna take a walk?”

* * * * *

We walked for three blocks in relative silence, taking in the cold winter air as we went. I sensed that Freddy wanted to talk, but on the other hand, he wasn’t saying a word.

“Nice out, isn’t it?” I observed. When all else fails, talk about the weather.

Freddy didn’t answer.

“Hey,” I said, now stopping in my tracks. Freddy walked ahead a few steps, but finally stopped. “What’s going on, man?” I asked.

“What?”

“You seem really on edge tonight,” I replied. “Are you alright?”

Freddy sighed. “I’m fine, George. I guess…I don’t know. I guess it’s just stress or something.”

“Is it Tom?”

Freddy looked away, biting his lip. “Does that make me a bad person?”

“No. I guess you didn’t see it coming.”

“I just thought he was a bit shy around girls.”

“I think he did, too. But he and Jeremy seem good together.”

Freddy pursed his lips and looked away again. “Maybe. Maybe it’s just a phase,” he observed. “Maybe he’ll meet the right girl and fall madly in love and forget all this business.” Freddy shook his head. “I sound like a right pillock, don’t I?”

“Somewhat.”

Freddy nudged a small pebble with the toe of shoe. “Lots to worry about these days. I just don’t want anyone to hurt him, you know, haters. He’s such a great kid. I worry about you, too.”

I chuckled. “I thought I was the worrywart of the family. Since when did you get so uptight?”

“Since my marks tanked this term. Since Dad gave me an ultimatum about being a Healer.”

“What happened?” That really threw me! I thought Freddy was perfectly suited to be a Healer! What could have gone wrong?

“I don’t know,” he confessed. “I think everything going on with the family really got to me. If it wasn’t Mum and Dad getting divorced, then you were being…tortured. George, you have no idea what we all went through. The thought that I’d lose you like that, well…” But he stopped. He rubbed his eyes, pretending they were itching.

“Mum and Dad are back together, my health is fine. You don’t have to worry, Freddy.”

“You’re not fine,” he retorted. “I can tell. I can see it in your eyes, George. What they did to you really fucked you up on the inside. It kills me to see you like this!”

“I’m alright, Freddy! Honest! I mean yeah, I’ve changed, but not for the worse. Not any more.”

“The press is calling for you to stop your campaign, you know. A friend of mine at the _Daily Prophet_ told me they’re planning a huge, in-depth story about how your campaign has endangered not only your own life but those of countless Squibs.”

“There’s always a risk, Freddy,” I said, now pretty huffy. Was he trying to talk me out of continuing on? “You’re not telling me to quit, are you?”

“They interviewed Theo Scrimgeour, you know. He gave them an earful, according to my friend.”

“They pissed on his picture, Freddy!” I snapped. “Of course he’s feeling threatened! So what?”

“Aurora told me the threat her father received, about you, that they’d make you suffer phycially and mentally! She told me about those pictures, too.”

I blushed. Even though Althea and I weren’t in the pictures, it was still pretty embarrassing.

Freddy pulled me into an embrace. “I love you, George,” he said. “Nothing’s worth losing you, man. Nothing.”

I stepped back, offended. “That’s ridiculous, Freddy!” I snapped. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this from you of all people!”

“I’m not telling you to stop! I…I’m just…scared for you,” he admitted. “I don’t think any of us realised just how big of an impact this campaign would have. You have to admit that!”

“Yeah…”

“And we certainly didn’t know that some bastards would fucking torture you! This scares the hell out of me, George. I want to see changes happen, but the cost is pretty damn high! It’s really messing me up!”

I angrily shoved my hands in my pockets, pacing up and down, struggling to find a response. “Look, Freddy, I don’t know what’s going to happen with all this. I know that Mr. Malfoy is pushy enough to get me a hearing in front of the Ministry, so we just have to hope that they’ll listen and change the law so that we can all move on! That’s my hope.”

“And if the law is changed and a violent minority objects, then what?”

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

“Maybe you are, but maybe not others,” Freddy pointed out. “You might not mind getting tortured for a just cause, but when that cause puts innocent lives at risk, then you’re just being reckless.”

I had no response. Freddy was right, of course. It was true of any civil rights struggle, that innocent people got caught in the crossfire. But the big questions was whether it was worth it. Would Sasha Shaklebolt, or any other black woman for that matter, have civil rights had it not been for the suffering of others in generations past? I wanted to throw that in Freddy’s face, but he was too upset, so I let it drop for the present.

Later that night as I lay in my bed, I couldn’t sleep a wink. Freddy’s words still rang in my ears, and I could still see his anguished face in my mind’s eye. What was I risking by continuing my campaign? Was this really about the Magically Challenged, or was this just about me? Was I just imposing my own views unfairly on the populace? Was I responsible for that man who got Stunned? The thought was upsetting enough to get me out of bed. I pattered down the hall, past Lydia’s room, then Freddy’s…I heard a girl moan softly, and heard the squeak of bedsprings. Giggles, too.

I quietly made my down the stairs, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible. Plus, the thought of chocolate cake tempted me onward—that was my favourite midnight snack. Across the marble foyer, through the morning room, heading towards the living room, which was adjacent to the kitchen. I moved to turn the doorknob, but stopped at the sound of…snogging. Wild, crazy snogging. I knew it was Tom and Jeremy—it had to be. Do I turn the knob and burst in like a prat, or do I find the alternative route to the kitchen?

Unsure I could handle any more drama, I took the alternative route, leaving my younger brother in peace. Awash in new questions as I dove into the chocolate cake, I started to think about what Freddy admitted to me. Had I caught Tom with Jeremy, had I seen them snogging…or shagging, would I be as tolerant as I wanted to think I was? I hoped so, but I wasn’t so sure.

I wasn’t sure of anything any more.


	15. The Interview

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The moment I entered, Ms. Bones laughed._
> 
> _“Oh my gods, it’s Nigel Chaucer twenty years younger!” she exclaimed. Her voice was throaty and raspy. I think she smoked muggle cigarettes._
> 
> _I smiled politely at her. “Yeah, I know we look alike,” I replied._
> 
> _“Son of a bitch! You’re a dead ringer for him! Come in, come in! Have a seat!” She pulled out a very long piece of green parchment and grabbed a Quick Quotes Quill, poured glasses of firewhiskey for both of us and then proceeded to stare at me for a full minute._

“Where is everyone?”

Tom looked from his porridge, his tired eyes at half mast this morning. He had a little bruise on his neck. “Out.”

“It’s only nine,” I replied, conjuring hot, buttered toast and jam and a glass of orange juice. “When did Jeremy leave?”

Tom blushed.

“Was it three or was it four?” Lydia asked tartly as she joined us at the table, setting a plate of fresh cinnamon buns in front of us. I salivated at the light, sweet scent and grabbed one for myself.

Tom blushed again. “I was in bed by half three.”

“Alone?” Lydia asked.

“Yes! Alone!” Tom barked. But then he smirked. “Unlike Freddy.”

“You heard it, too?” I asked, astonished. Were they really that loud?

“The entire block heard them!” Lydia laughed. “You should have seen Dad this morning! He lay into Freddy so bad!”

“I guess they didn’t appreciate their eldest golden child getting it on for all to hear,” Tom said, shoving half a cinnamon bun in his mouth.

Lydia winked at him. “At least they drowned out you and Jeremy!” They laughed.

“So what was in the water last night that made everyone so horny?” I wondered.

“Oh! George!” Lydia jumped and dashed out to the foyer, returning quickly with a large, flat package. “These came this morning. I think they’re the posters!”

I grabbed the package and tore it open eagerly—there they were, in all their glory. The brand new posters for the Squib Rights campaign. These featured different people this time—adults, some people from the homeless shelter, a picture of the Squib entrance to the Ministry, and a really great picture of the law regarding the extra taxes and fees imposed on the Magically Challenged—we got that one to flash different colours. These were going to be really powerful, and fortunately, despite the controversy or perhaps because of it, I had arranged with several merchants in Diagon Alley to display them. I also owled sample copies of the new brochures to the reporters who were set to interview me this week, so they could know what sort of questions to ask. I was pretty excited.

I couldn’t suppress my glee at how bloody great they looked. “This is brilliant!” I exclaimed. “Hey, you guys want to help me take them around today?”

“I can’t today,” Lydia said. “Mum and I are having a male-free day today.”

Tom rolled his eyes at her. “Jeremy and I can help you, George. You bringing Paige and the crew?”

“I hope so,” I said sourly. “It depends on what sort of crew I’ve got left.”

“You mean Theo?”

“I hope he’s the only one who’s backed out.” I scribbled a note to Althea. “Say, where’s Althea this week?” I asked.

“Her Dad’s other house,” Lydia said. “The one he inherited from his mum. Spinner’s End, or something like that. I don’t know if it’s a town or a street.”

“Street,” Tom said. “I don’t know the town, but I hear it’s a muggle place. Thea says it’s kind of crappy but her dad won’t let anyone fix it up or anything.”

“He’s so weird,” Lydia grumbled.

“Anyway, I think I can get her and Aidan and Nick to help us out today,” I said hopefully.

The reality I faced was a bit different, as it happened, to my extreme disappointment. While Althea was more than happy to help us out, as was her sister, Aurora, both Nick and Aidan weren’t so eager. They made their excuses that they were busy and were preparing for a visit from their muggle grandmother, but I had a feeling that wasn’t really the reason. Althea, Aurora, or any of us could easily have apparated them to London, so it wasn’t about distance. But I decided not to ask.

Diagon Alley that morning was bustling with pre-Christmas energy. All the shops were decked out in glittering lights and sparkling green and red decorations, all ready for the season. My uncles’ shop was by far the most outrageous, festive and amazing place in the entire district. Not only did the tinsel change colours every fifteen minutes, but the Christmas trees they placed in front of the shop waltzed to the Christmas carols that they somehow piped through the entire shop. They had real fairies atop each tree, and every so often, a little box would open and snow would explode out of it, dusting the pavement and the shoppers as they passed by.

Thankfully, they had left space in their front windows for the new posters.

“These are great,” Uncle Fred said admiringly as he read the one about restrictions against the Magically Challenged. “I always forget how far we’re stuck in the Dark Ages sometimes. You have to hand it to muggles for being way more progressive than we are.”

“We can catch up, Fred,” Uncle George said. He passed out singing candy canes to all of us, though Jeremy had a hard time keeping his attention from the new Rose in a Nose.

“What’s this?” he asked, indicating the small red box topped with a silver bow.

“Ah! The Rose in a Nose!” Uncle George crowed proudly. “Very popular with the younger set. See, you take a pinch of this pink dust, put it in your palm and blow it in the face of your beloved. The stuff makes your beloved sneeze, and when he does,” George explained, glancing quickly at a blushing Tom, “roses grow out of his nose!”

“That is so gross,” Althea said, crinkling her nose.

“You should try it on Aidan,” Tom suggested.

“Is that allowed? He’s Magically Challenged,” Althea pointed out.

“Just warn him,” I said.

After we left my uncles shop, the bunch of us continued our way from shop to shop, passing out posters and brochures. Many shopkeepers were still happy to accept the posters, but some didn’t want the brochures. Many others, though, more than before, were reluctant to accept any posters, and some were outright hostile towards us. We got thrown out of Twillfit and Tattings. I saw the controversy coming, but not to that extent.

“What changed?” Tom asked dejectedly as we sat in Fortescue’s, burrowing through massive ice cream sundaes. He licked the cherry on the top of his sundae, and then dropped it into Jeremy’s mouth—they gave each other a light kiss. Then another. Then another.

“Mob mentality,” Aurora groused. “Stupidity. Ignorance. Same old shit.”

“True,” I agreed. My face fell, though, when I spotted Ellie, Malachi, Dorsett and Caldwell passing by, laughing and joking about. It still puzzled me what had happened to Ellie. It still made no sense.

“Bitch,” Althea murmured. I guess she spotted them, too. “I’d like to take this ice cream cone and shove it in her ugly face.”

“Just keep your temper, Thea,” Aurora said. 

But no sooner were the words out of her mouth when I jumped up, shouting in horror as I spied them tearing up one of the posters we had just put up across the street.

“Dammit!” Tom yelled. 

“Those assholes!” Paige swore loudly.

As one, we hurried out of Fortescue’s, dashing across to rescue our precious posters. Malachi was in the middle of spitting on it—it was the one with the homeless shelter—and for one terrible second, I thought he might take a piss on it. Thankfully, he didn’t.

“Hey!” Jeremy bellowed.

Malachi and the rest took one look at the rampaging Jeremy and burst out laughing. “What are you going to do to me, Spinnett?” he sneered. “Rape me?”

Jeremy drew back his arm, ready to punch Malachi on the nose, but Tom and I grabbed him and held him back.

“That’s private property, asshole!” Aurora exclaimed. “You have no right to touch that!”

Malachi spit on the poster again. “OK, Snape. Stop me.”

Her hand flew to her wand, but apparently I trumped her. In my fury, I imagined the lot of them languishing in a dark prison, and the next thing anyone knew, what looked like a stone prison cell, complete with bars, cobwebs and mildew sprang up, encasing the lot of them inside. Paige jumped back in shock, and Althea burst out laughing. I was mortified.

“Hey!” Dorsett cried out, first sounding angry but then sounding afraid. “Let us out, Malfoy!”

“I didn’t do it!” Paige shot back.

“Let us out!” Ellie demanded.

“Hey, Ellie, watch it in those prison showers,” Jeremy joked. He took a pinch of Rose in a Nose and blew it through the bars on the window, making them all sneeze. In an instant, the four of them had massive bouquets of red roses growing out of their noses. Althea and Tom doubled over, hooting with laughter. Pretty soon, dozens of passers-by stopped to gawk and laugh.

“You’ll pay for this, Spinnett!” Caldwell growled.

“For what? You should be grateful I took the time to get you roses. You don’t deserve them,” he shot back. We laughed louder.

But when we turned to leave, Tom stopped me. “You’re not going to just leave them in there, are you?” he asked quietly.

“Should I let them out?” I asked him. “Seriously?”

“George, let them out,” Aurora warned, speaking so only Tom and I could hear. “This has gone far enough.”

I knew they were right, but I wanted them to stay put just a bit longer…but I relented, sort of. I imagined the prison gone, but I decided to leave them with a little reminder of their five minute incarceration—when the prison cell vanished, they found themselves dressed in prison stripes. And I made sure those stripes wouldn’t vanish for a full twenty-four hours. That seemed fair.

But that night at the dinner table, Dad didn’t seem to agree.

“George,” he lectured, “I learned the hard way that baiting people isn’t such a good idea. Don’t be surprised if this doesn’t come back at you.”

“They’ve done their worst,” I replied dismissively. “Plus, they don’t necessarily know that I did it. They think Jeremy made that prison cell!”

Tom scowled. “Where’s Freddy?” he asked, eager to change the subject.

“Out,” Mum said. Dad frowned.

“I heard you had a row this morning,” I said.

“It’s between me and your brother,” Dad replied. Turning to Tom, he frowned again. “And as for you, Casanova, you’d better cool it in this house. You have a little brother to think of and the last thing he needs to see and hear is his older siblings going at it.”

“I hear you and Mum sometimes,” Tom shot back.

“And we’re married!” Dad replied sharply.

“Well I don’t have that luxury,” Tom grumbled. “Wizard law doesn’t let people like me marry.”

Dad opened his mouth to retort, but suddenly, he relented. “I love you, son,” he said gently. Turning back to me, however, his glare returned. “I also don’t want to see you abusing your powers, George. I know you can control it now, so you have no more excuses for what happened today.”

“I…”

“And by the way, Severus told me of your nuisance campaign against Zabini. He might think it’s hilarious, but I think it’s shameful.”

“Dad!” Tom exclaimed.

“Shameful?” Lydia blurted out. “You can’t be serious!”

Mum stayed safely out of the fray, sipping her wine and watching the rest of us with great amusement while Dad struggled to regain control of the situation. I think I heard a giggle from her at one point.

“Come on, Dad, it was just a bit of fun,” I argued. “You and Mum are always going on about how you used to hex people for fun!”

“Yeah!” Lydia echoed. “Didn’t Mum use the Bat-Bogey Hex on tons of people? Was that shameful?”

Mum shrugged. “Ask your father. He seems to have all the answers tonight.”

Dad glared at her. “Look…alright, so maybe I overspoke.”

“Maybe?” Tom pressed. I wish I was as daring as my younger brother sometimes.

“Alright, definitely,” Dad conceded. “Just be careful not to take it too far. George, you know that those people are hell-bent on tormenting you further. Just don’t give them reason to make things any worse, because I hate to think of what else they might do to you. I can’t go through that again, son. I couldn’t take that. Do you understand me?”

The three of us nodded. Lydia’s eyes filled with tears.

“Sorry, Daddy,” she said meekly.

* * * * *

On Boxing Day, I got to return to Diagon Alley, this time to meet with Alice Bones, Senior Political Editor of _The Portal_ , the wizarding community’s most prestigious and progressive news journal. Mum worked for them a while back, and even today, they often print her syndicated articles on gender issues in sport. Ms. Bones and my Mum were great friends back at school, though we didn’t see much of her these days. Busy schedules, work, kids, travel. She was constantly traveling to New York or Paris or some other place, whereas Mum’s life had mostly gravitated around London for a long time now. I wondered whether Mum envied Ms. Bones a bit, whether she missed the crazy, peripatetic life of a wandering journalist.

Ms. Bones was all politeness when I entered her very grand, very elegant office. She had a team of liberated House Elves who ran errands for her, ran copy to the printing press and did other thankless duties for her at all times of the working day. On top of that, her assistant, a very pretty blonde girl whose name I couldn’t remember, ran in and out of the door with things to sign, parchments to read over and decisions to make—the girl was in Freddy’s class, I was sure. I wish I could remember who she was. I seem to remember having a slight crush on her.

Anyway, the moment I entered, Ms. Bones laughed. 

“Oh my gods, it’s Nigel Chaucer twenty years younger!” she exclaimed. Her voice was throaty and raspy. I think she smoked muggle cigarettes.

I smiled politely at her. “Yeah, I know we look alike,” I replied.

“Son of a bitch! You’re a dead ringer for him! Come in, come in! Have a seat!” She pulled out a very long piece of green parchment and grabbed a Quick Quotes Quill, poured glasses of firewhiskey for both of us and then proceeded to stare at me for a full minute, which made me very uncomfortable.

“So, how long have you been at _The Portal_?” I asked, desperate to break the tension I felt.

She laughed again. “Are you always this direct?” she asked.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re just like your old man. Seriously! So okay, no talk of the weather or the fate of the Cornish Pixies, right? Down to business?”

I felt like a stick.

“Well, you’re the one who wanted to ask the questions,” I rejoined.

“Bold, too, just like Nigel. I like that.” Ms. Bones cleared her throat and adjusted her oval, black-rimmed spectacles. “So, you contacted my office and asked for an interview regarding your Magically Challenged campaign, so I’ve taken a little time to put together a few questions which I hope will help to clarify your aims.”

“Sounds good to me,” I agreed, “considering the downturn of our reputation these days.”

She nodded, very businesslike. “Yes. About that. Why do you think the public has turned against you so radically?”

“I think a lot of people are nervous about change,” I replied. I worked to sound as professional as I could—I didn’t want Ms. Bones to know how nervous I was. “Some people think that we’re trying to change everything, you know, letting the Magically Challenged become Healers or something.”

“Then if you’re not, what are you doing?”

“Just leveling the playing field, as the muggles say,” I replied. 

“But doesn’t that mean you want to see them get jobs they can’t do?”

“Not at all! Not so long ago I thought I was Magically Challenged because until I was sixteen, I had no evidence of any magical ability. My dream as a little boy was to be a Healer, like my Dad, and when I realised I couldn’t, it really broke my heart. But there was no getting around it, regardless of the law. I knew that a Healer has to be able to do magic, and there’s no law that can change that. So no, we’re not trying to make that sort of change.”

“But do you think people really understand that?”

“I have a good friend who’s currently dating someone that’s Magically Challenged. Were they to continue their relationship and want to get married, and by the way, I hope they do, the law imposes a fine on them. Is that fair? These are both really great people, but the law treats them like vermin because my friend can’t do magic!”

“But the law isn’t forbidding them from marrying,” she pointed out.

“No. But they might as well since when they go to the Ministry to apply for their marriage license, she goes in one door and he goes in a different door! They get penalised if they want to move into a new neighbourhood, and when it’s time to vote, her vote counts way more than his! Is that fair?”

“The law was set up to protect the Magically Challenged, or at least that’s what the Ministry will tell you. Are you saying you don’t trust the Ministry?”

“I’m not saying that at all. A good portion of my family works in the Ministry. But this is a new world, a new age. Maybe there was a time when the Magically Challenged needed those sorts of protections, but those are bygone days.”

“Would you want to see the law changed that forbids a witch or wizard from hexing a Squib?”

“Of course not.” She was really starting to bug me. I wondered whose side she was on at this point. “They’re defenceless when it comes to magic. I know how that feels, and I’m grateful for those protections. But making them use a different door isn’t protecting anyone. Imposing a marriage penalty on mixed couples isn’t a protection.”

“My sources tell me there has been some trouble regarding your campaign, that you’ve been personally attacked and slandered by your opponents. Do you think it’s worth it in spite of those attacks?”

“That assumes the attacks were about the campaign,” I pointed out. “I know the slander was about it, but we still don’t know about the first attack.”

“You mean the torture poison?”

I blushed. The thought of that poison stabbed at my heart. “Yeah. I mean, it’s possible, even probable, but it’s not a sure thing.”

“How do you feel about the Law Enforcement Office’s inquiry into that attack? I understand your own uncle is heading the whole thing.”

“They’re doing everything they can,” I replied. In truth, I was pretty frustrated with the inquiry, but I didn’t want her to know that. “But there’s a lot of missing information still, so there’s only so much they can do. I mean it’s hard right now, but I know the truth will come out. I’m determined to make that happen.”

“Has it interfered with your campaign?”

“Somewhat.”

“Have people dropped out?”

“A bit. But I’m pressing onward, regardless. We just put up our new materials around Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade, and we’re not going to stop just because of a few idiots.”

“These so-called idiots have been very vocal around here, especially after your demonstration last summer,” she said. “These so-called idiots have written some interesting articles in various journals condemning you and your campaign. How do you feel about that?”

“I think they’re cowards if they don’t want to talk to me personally or write to me personally.”

“Cowards?” she exclaimed. OK, I admit that was a pretty strong word.

“It’s easy to just sit around and make opinions about the issue, but we’re out there doing something about it, or at least trying. To condemn a whole movement without effectively addressing the issue or studying it in depth is just like blowing smoke. If someone has a problem with what I’m doing, I want to know in person.”

Ms. Bones raised an eyebrow. “Haven’t they already? You were poisoned, you were slandered. Isn’t that news enough?”

“As I said, it’s a coward’s way of getting a message across. People like that don’t want to discuss the issue—they just want to bully people into silence and compliance.”

“Are you sure you’re ready for what people might say to you? Are you ready for the nasty things people will say to your face?”

“That poison was the most horrible, most horrendous suffering I’ve ever endured. The pain went on for days and days. It nearly killed me, but because I survived, it also made me a lot stronger than I ever thought I was. So yeah, I’m ready.”


	16. A New Wrinkle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“You said his name?” Tom roared at me. “You outed Jeremy?”_
> 
> _“She knew his name already! I didn’t out anyone!”_
> 
> _“His parents didn’t know, George! He’s been afraid to come out to them because he knows they’ll throw him out! How could you do this?”_
> 
> _“I said I didn’t! She already knew who he was! She knew all sorts of details, even about Freddy and Sasha and about things in the Ministry!”_
> 
> _“Who is this woman?” Freddy asked._

The other interview wasn’t quite so, shall we say, serious or friendly or pleasant. When I walked out of Ms. Bones’ office after our three-hour interview, I felt really good about myself and I really thought I’d done something positive for the whole movement. She had asked some pretty tough questions, played devil’s advocate on several occasions, but overall, gave me respect. I felt like she really listened to what I had to say, and I looked forward to reading her write-up of our talk.

The next day, Mum was still excited about the whole thing.

“George,” she told me at the dinner table, “Alice absolutely LOVED you! She was so excited to talk to you and she was very impressed by your maturity.”

Freddy snorted. “Old man since the day he was born,” he joked. I threw a pea at him. “By the way, little bro,” Freddy said, vanishing the pea, “Sasha talked to her father and she told me that he’s moving for the Ministry to set up a meeting date with you and your crew.”

“Are you serious?” I cried. 

“Finally!” Tom exclaimed. He and Lydia high-fived each other.

“Won’t there be opposition?” Lydia asked, now concerned.

“I’d be shocked if there weren’t,” I replied. “But we’re on the right side. We just have to be sure that the Ministry is on our side, too.”

“Your interviews this week should help,” Tom said. “I mean, most publications love you…”

Lydia giggled. “And your sparkling eyes!” she said dramatically. Everyone laughed.

Well, _The Portal_ interview might have helped us out, sparkle or no sparkle, but as for _Witch Weekly_ …

The redheaded, middle aged female reporter had little interest in politics, in the law, in civil rights, in anything much other than asking some pretty risqué questions. She reminded me a bit of a cross between a genie and a courtesan. Lots of beads, lots of rouge, crazy hair. I can’t believe I actually stayed as long as I did, but I guess I was just waiting for her to get to the issue. Instead, she launched into a series of pretty personal and totally inappropriate questions. For example…

“How has this campaign affected your love life?” Her voice sounded like a crow, and I’m not kidding.

“What?” I asked, totally taken aback by the question. Why would a woman her age be remotely interested in a schoolboy’s love life?

But she sort of giggled and gave me a sly wink. “Come on, Georgie, you can tell me. It must be exciting for your girlfriend to have the romantic attentions of someone like you.” Georgie? Only my family is allowed call me _Georgie_ , and that’s only when I’m in a good mood.

I shrugged. “I…I think you’d have to ask her that.”

“I bet she gets lots of competition, right?”

“No! We see each other exclusively! She has nothing to worry about from me.”

“But of course, there were those pictures with Miss Snape,” she suggested. “Those were quite interesting. She’s your cousin, right?”

“Those pictures were falsified!” I insisted strongly. “That wasn’t me in those pictures! I don’t know who it was, but I know who it wasn’t.”

“But seriously, George, you must be skilled in the intimate arts, correct? Do you keep Miss Malfoy satisfied?” Intimate arts? Was she for real? Freddy would have fallen on the floor laughing at the hag.

“I…” I stopped. Anything I could have said would be misinterpreted, I just shrugged.

The reporter seemed vaguely satisfied with that—she sort of grinned wickedly and gave me another wink, but then she threw me something entirely unexpected.

“So tell me, George, do you think your younger brother’s sexual orientation will have an impact on your campaign?”

I blanched. “What? Why would it?”

She shrugged diffidently. “So you’re alright with it? You don’t have any issues with gays?”

“What does that have to do with the campaign?” I asked. I was starting to get a little huffy.

“It might make some people question your character.”

“That’s ridiculous!”

“Well you and I both know that, George,” she replied sympathetically, “but that’s just what people will say. They’re not as progressive and you and I are. But seriously, George, if you can win rights for the Magically Challenged, will your next campaign be to allow your brother marry Jeremy Spinnett?”

“I…I don’t know.” How did she know about Jeremy?

“So you might not?”

“Look, all I can do right now is focus on one thing at a time.”

“Yeah, but of course, don’t you think that it’s a more pressing issue than yours?”

“Not necessarily,” I argued.

“So the Magically Challenged are more important than your gay brother?”

“I didn’t say that. I think you’re putting words in my mouth.”

“But if you’re going to conduct a campaign, I would think it would be more valuable to do something more significant.”

“I couldn’t disagree with you more, ma’am.” This was getting old very fast.

The reporter shrugged again, then gave me one of those totally fake plastic smiles. “Some people around here are saying that the only reason you’ve made any success with your campaign is that Nigel Chaucer is your father and Ginny Weasley is your mother. What do think about that?”

I hate that question. “I know for a fact that it’s not true,” I replied firmly. “The campaign has gotten where it has because of the importance of the issue. Just because some people can’t understand that doesn’t mean that my parents are somehow pulling strings to get me ahead.”

“But aren’t they?”

“No!”

“So your father has nothing to do with the fact that his buddy, Kingsley Shaklebolt is heading a commission to examine the issue? Isn’t it relevant that your older brother, Freddy, is dating Shaklebolt’s youngest daughter? You seriously don’t see the connection?”

“There is no connection. We have been very aggressive in our campaign, and we’ve worked hard to raise public awareness of the issue. Most of our supporters have been local merchants, in fact, not Ministry officials. In fact, I haven’t even approached the Ministry yet.”

The reporter smiled sweetly, motherly. I wanted to smash her face actually, but I held back. Holding back my magic was even harder, but I managed not to make her office rain squirrels.

“Do you see yourself as divided, George?” she asked.

“Divided? Not really.”

“You’re quite busy. Of course, you don’t have the usual Hogwarts lessons, unlike the rest of your peers, but you are a special case I suppose. You can’t seem to avoid getting special treatment from those around you.”

“My situation is a bit unique,” I pointed out defencively.

“So here you are, nearly eighteen, ready to enter the world. But you’ve got little to show for it, right?”

“Well, if you mean NEWT’s, then yeah, but there’s more to life than that.”

“Well yes, of course. But with all the campaigning you’ve been doing, does it interfere with your ability to be Head Boy?”

“It’s a tough balancing act,” I admitted. It was true. “But I manage alright. I have a great partner in Miss Jane Fowler, and I have a whole committee to help with the campaign, so I manage to fit everything in, including lessons.” The second I mentioned Jane’s name, I regretted it.

“Yes, Miss Fowler. Her great uncle was murdered, right? Wasn’t your father blamed?”

“He was exonerated, ma’am.”

She chuckled. “Well, it helps to know the right people. Isn’t Kingsley Shaklebolt the one who promised your father that he would cover up any crime for him?”

“WHAT?” I bellowed.

“That’s what I heard, that if the great Nigel Chaucer ever got into trouble, he’d get him out of it even if he had to cover it up. So you’re saying that’s untrue?”

“I’m saying it’s not right to listen to unfounded rumours.”

And so on, ad nauseam…

* * * * *

“It was a total hit piece!” I shouted at anyone within earshot at home. “I am so furious with that stupid bitch! I shouldn’t have gone! I’m such an idiot!”

“You didn’t know,” Lydia said. She handed me a cupcake with pink sprinkles on the top. “That magazine is usually sympathetic towards us. Who knew you’d get reamed by a harpy?”

The cupcake was great, but it didn’t quite take away from how angry and frustrated I felt just then. In fact, I wanted to mash it into the reporter’s ugly hair and make it stay like that forever. The greatest fear I had was that what I’d said would somehow be misinterpreted—I could see her taking what I said about Tom or Freddy and twisting it into something awful, into something I didn’t mean. But I couldn’t tell them that. I couldn’t bear it. Both of them were going through a lot these days, and I didn’t want to make them feel like I wasn’t behind them or anything.

So when the article came out a few days later, I thought seriously about going into hiding. Here’s the part that really made my blood boil:

_…younger brother, Tom, is notoriously running around with a gay lover, a Mr. Jeremy Spinnett, also a Hogwarts Fifth Year. Making no secret of their liaison, they have scandalized many of their peers with their flagrant public demonstrations of affection. Chaucer seems tolerant enough of such things, however, I got the impression that in private, he might not be so liberal-minded…_

“You said his name?” Tom roared at me. “You outed Jeremy?”

“She knew his name already! I didn’t out anyone!”

“His parents didn’t know, George! He’s been afraid to come out to them because he knows they’ll throw him out! How could you do this?”

“I said I didn’t! She already knew who he was! She knew all sorts of details, even about Freddy and Sasha and about things in the Ministry!”

“Who is this woman?” Freddy asked. He was just about as angry as the rest of us. “Agrippina Forsyte? How does she get her information?”

“I remember her from school,” Mum said. “She was in Percy’s year, I think. Yes! She was, but her name wasn’t Forsyte back then.”

“Don’t tell me it was Taylor,” Dad grumbled.

“No, not Taylor,” Mum said. She thought for a moment, trying to remember. Suddenly, her face fell. “Davies. Her sister is married to Rutherford Caldwell.”

“But wait,” I said, confused. “I thought the Caldwells are muggles. Albert Caldwell is muggle-born.”

“His parents are muggles, but his uncle is a wizard,” Mum said.

“Oh my gods,” I murmured, astonished. “That’s where she got her information. From her nephew, or whatever he is to her.”

“Caldwell?” Freddy said. “Do you think he’d dare? His uncle is a big shot at the Ministry, or so I hear. That’s what Sasha says.”

That made me pause. “He is? I had no idea. I knew Caldwell was a big fat psycho, but I didn’t know he’s so well connected.”

“Almost as connected as you,” Dad said. “His uncle’s closest friend was an extremely talented Auror when I was at the Ministry, one of those who got killed by Taylor’s gang. Maybe the family hasn’t quite gotten past that.”

“So they blame you, Dad?” Freddy asked.

“Maybe,” Dad replied grimly. “There was a lot of anger when so many got killed. Lots of controversy back then.”

“So they take it out on George?” Freddy spat.

“But wait, then are you suggesting that all this has something to do with Dad?” I asked Freddy, incredulous. That couldn’t be right.

“I think at this point, anything is possible,” Dad replied. “It could be for several reasons. Power, perceived nepotism, old, unhealed wounds, you name it. All of the above.”

“But wait!” I exclaimed. “What department does Mr. Caldwell work in at the Ministry?”

Mum shrugged, as did Freddy. Dad, however, glowered. “He’s an Unspeakable.”

Shit. Unspeakables were an odd sort, mostly because they sort of knew things…strange things sometimes. And then it occurred to me.

“Do you suppose Nigel Brian Snape knows him?” I asked.

* * * * *

“I’m too junior in the department to know Mr. Caldwell personally,” Nigel Brian said silkily. Just like his father. “However, he is next in line to be head of the entire department.”

“What does he specialise in?” Dad asked. We all sat in the beautiful, elegant library at Malfoy Manor, drinking tea and snacking on fresh scones from Miss Julie’s, a muggle bakery in Dad’s home town. Mr. Malfoy was part way through a bottle of sherry—Dad and Professor Snape…that is, Severus, were helping him along.

“He wrote a paper once on transforming energy from light to dark and back to light,” Nigel Brian reported.

Dad puzzled at that. “With incantations?” he asked. “I mean, magic is influenced by emotions, but specific spells come from intentions, and as far as I know, that involves the use of incantations and wand movement.”

“Precisely,” Nigel Brian replied coolly. Severus grunted audibly. “Magic itself cannot discern good or evil, however, the way in one writes a spell or develops a potion determines the outcome.”

I glanced at Severus, who nodded in agreement with what his son just said.

“Severus,” Dad said, “can muggle elements be used in magic? I mean muggle potions or substances created by muggles?”

“You know they can, Nigel,” Severus replied. “Though it is more challenging when one uses a muggle potion or drug—those ingredients are already extremely processed and blended, so isolating them for magical use is tricky, though not impossible.”

“Have you ever tried it?” I asked.

Severus glared at me for a moment, but then his features softened somewhat. “There was a time when I created some very dark potions, George, but no, I never used muggle materials. To be honest, it never would have occurred to me. It wouldn’t for most wizards.”

“But the torture potion had muggle ingredients, right?” Tom asked. “Who would think to do that, to add those things if most wizards, even brilliant wizards like Severus, wouldn’t know to do that?”

“But is Mr. Caldwell the only wizard who would have thought of that?” Nigel Brian asked. “He certainly is suspicious, considering his muggle connections, but suspicion is not a fact, and it is fact which you need.”

Severus rolled his eyes impatiently.

But the thought stayed with me as my eighteenth birthday came and went. We had a great party at the house, with all the usual friends there. I know that I became an adult a year ago, but this birthday felt different to me. It felt special, maybe because by the time my next birthday came around, I’d be out of school and doing something with my life. What I would do still remained a mystery to me. With so much magic in me, I knew I could do just about anything, but as the campaign heated up once again, thoughts of being a Healer diminished. I thought about wizard law again, but I also thought about politics.

Maybe Agrippina Forsyte had a point—with no NEWT’s and no experience in regular wizard classes, my prospects were pretty bleak. I could probably go into the Ministry, but I knew that if I did, shouts of nepotism and cronyism would crop up again. I could study the law and maybe work for Tom McDowell—same problem. Another family friend. Or I could start a new campaign on behalf of my brother, so that he and Jeremy could marry if they wanted.

But did I want to do that? In some ways, I did, but in other ways, I didn’t. It wasn’t really my fight, and why not let Tom or Jeremy or someone else with a vested interest take up the job? I liked politicking and campaigning and talking to people, but it was hard work, too. What about the rest of my life? What about Paige? What about my love life? What about friends and hobbies and sport? Here I was, barely eighteen now, and yet in a way I felt about fifty. I was in school but I wasn’t in regular classes. I was Head Boy, but I was deeply involved in my campaign. I had a girlfriend, but we didn’t spend as much time together as we had before.

So who was I? What would I do in the world? What would I become?

* * * * *

If no one was quite sure of the relationship between Tom and Jeremy, they were sure now. _Witch Weekly_ made sure of it, featuring not only a bad picture of me, but a picture of Tom and Jeremy, sharing a quick kiss at Fortescue’s. I was positive that Caldwell had taken the photograph and given it to Agrippina Forsyte—where else could it have come from? This was no faked photo this time, as I was sitting right there when the kiss happened.

Tom was beside himself with worry. “He’s going to kill me!” he mourned. 

We walked together to the muggle cinema, where we were meeting Theo and his muggle girlfriend, that is, his new muggle girlfriend, Amber. He only described her as very blonde and really funny. I had no idea how to interpret that statement, but I remained open-minded. Paige was supposed to meet us, but cancelled at the last minute—some sort of family thing, or so she said.

“Jeremy isn’t going to kill you, Tom,” I replied, trying to sound reassuring. It didn’t work.

“You don’t get it, George, his family is very traditional about that sort of thing. He has a cousin who’s a lesbian, and her parents cut her off entirely. She was going to have to leave Hogwarts altogether because she had no way to pay, but thankfully Severus got some funds together for her.”

“That’s pretty harsh,” I replied. “But there’s no guarantee they’d do that to Jeremy.”

“I’m really scared for him.”

But all talk of Jeremy and fear slid away at the sight of Theo, hand in hand with very short, very cute, very peppy blonde girl—this was Amber.

“Hi boys!” she called out happily.

Tom laughed as we approached. Theo looked as proud as a peacock. I hadn’t seen him like this before and I was really happy for him.

“Guys, this is Amber,” Theo said graciously. I could hear the excitement in his voice. “Baby, this is my best friend, George Weasley-Chaucer, and this is his brother, Tom.”

Baby? Tom threw me a dangerous glance. I suppressed a snigger. Amber chomped on her bubble gum and batted her pretty blue eyes and gushed about how she’d met Theo at Sainsbury’s and how she was so impressed that he’s studying computers and that she just loves playing games online and that she’s so excited to meet two such handsome boys.

“But like, you don’t look like brothers,” she observed. “I mean, you’re like a redhead,” she said to Tom, “and you’re sort of dark and manly and all.”

I laughed. Tom turned beet red. “Oh! So he’s not manly?” I crowed.

Amber tittered. “A guy only needs one thing to be manly.”

Tom laughed. “Well that’s a relief! I was worried for a minute!” Amber got up on her tippy toes and gave Tom a kiss on the cheek.

The movie was forgettable—some action flick with fast cars and lots of gunfire. It was far more interesting watching Theo’s hands throughout the film. His hand started on her knee, but then it sort of traveled upward a bit, then a bit more, and the next time I looked, he had it where it definitely shouldn’t have been—but Amber apparently was so aroused that she didn’t seem to mind. By the time the movie was over, it looked like the two of them were ready for some…intimate arts…and so Tom and I said our good byes and went home.

We were not expecting to be greeted by Law Enforcement officers on our front doorstep or a very troubled Freddy.


	17. Outed and Spurned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _If someone could beat a strapping kid like Jeremy Spinnett in broad daylight, then what could they do to Tom? After all, though Tom was energetic, athletic, vibrant and full of mischief, he was just one person, and if a gang of thugs decided to hem him in and give him a bashing, then even Tom couldn’t stop them. I wanted to go with Tom and Freddy to St. Mungo's to see Jeremy, but for whatever reason, Tom didn’t seem to want me there._

The first thing I thought when I saw the Law Enforcement officers was that someone must have died. A horrible vision of my father lying dead in a park with bulletholes in his chest made me start—after all, my father had once been shot by a muggle. I felt filled with fear just then.

“What’s going on?” Tom asked. I could hear the terror and tension in his voice.

“Sir, do you know a Mr. Jeremy Spinnett?” the taller, blond officer asked Tom. I could see a tattoo of a griffin on his neck.

Tom turned white. “Oh my gods!” he gasped. “What happened? Is he alright? Is he dead?”

“Let’s sit down now and talk,” the redheaded officer said, trying to steer an extremely anxious Tom towards the settee—Tom resisted him, his face how contorted with pain.

“What’s going on? Is he alright?” Tom demanded.

The two officers glanced at each other. Freddy’s face fell.

“Tom,” Freddy began, “there’s been an accident.”

“An accident? What accident?”

“Well, actually we don’t know what happened,” Freddy said. “Jeremy was found unconscious and bloodied in Hyde Park actually.”

“Is he…”

“He’s alive, Tom,” Freddy said assuringly. “But he was pretty badly beaten.”

“Beaten?” Tom shouted. “You said it was an accident!”

Freddy blushed. “I’m sorry, Tom, I…didn’t know how to say it.”

“Well what’s being done?” Tom roared. “Who’s doing the inquiry? Who’s been arrested?”

“We’ve only just started,” the blond officer said. “That’s why we want to speak with you, considering…well…considering your connection to him.”

Tom glared at him, but Freddy looked away.

“Now then, son,” the blond officer went on, “do you know why Mr. Spinnett was in Hyde Park this afternoon?”

“No. I have no idea!”

“So you weren’t meeting up with him for a…for a date?”

“I haven’t seen Jeremy in a few days,” Tom insisted. “We’ve both been busy since Christmas.”

“Is it possible that someone read the article in _Witch Weekly_ and attacked him?” the redheaded officer asked.

“Do you know if Mr. Spinnett has any enemies?” the blond officer asked.

“No!” Tom replied. “Everyone likes Jeremy! Well, there are a few haters out there, but…” He stopped, giving me a troubled look. “George,” he gasped. “Do you think…”

I knew what he was hinting at, but it found it hard to believe. I could believe homophobes or his family doing that, but for some reason, I couldn’t make the connection. This seemed too personal, too far removed from my own drama. But it made me worry about Tom. If someone could beat a strapping kid like Jeremy Spinnett in broad daylight, then what could they do to Tom? After all, though Tom was energetic, athletic, vibrant and full of mischief, he was just one person, and if a gang of thugs decided to hem him in and give him a bashing, then even Tom couldn’t stop them.

I wanted to go with Tom and Freddy to St. Mungo's to see Jeremy, but for whatever reason, Tom didn’t seem to want me there. At home, I tried to focus on finishing up my packing for the next day’s journey back to school, but worry about Tom was pretty overwhelming. It was back to the old days when my anxiety used to get so severe that I often made myself sick. Those were also the days in which my anxiety was so extreme that my magic was repressed.

Another reason to worry.

Mum saw my distress and did her best to get me to take Lethargis again, but I resisted.

“George, you know it’s necessary for you,” she said. We sat on my bed that evening, just talking. I didn’t do that often with my mother—usually I shared all my deep and troubling thought with my father, but as Dad was at St. Mungo's with Freddy and Tom, Mum sort of took over. “George, it’s been two months since the attack.”

“I know.”

“I’m not telling you to just get over it,” she said. “I know it’s been difficult. I can’t exactly say I blame you.”

“I just can’t,” I replied quietly. “I can’t explain why.”

“I know you’re afraid…”

“It’s not just that, Mum,” I said. “It’s deeper than that.”

“What do you mean?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. I can’t explain it. I…I look at the potion and something happens to me. It’s like I feel all that pain all over again, like it never quite got out of my body or something.”

Mum frowned. “Remember when your father urged you to get a little therapy?”

“Mum…”

“George, you’ve been scarred by this whole thing! You haven’t been the same since the attack, and I’m worried about you! You’ve got so much going on and I’m afraid that if you don’t start taking the Lethargis potion again, you’re going to break!”

I jumped up in total distress. “Mum! I can’t take it! I can’t!” I cried. Tears spilled out of my eyes like vile traitors. I dissolved into pathetic sobs, and when Mum put her arms around me and held me like I was seven years old again, I cried even more bitterly.

“You have to deal with this, George,” she said softly in my ear.

After a couple of minutes I was finally able to regain control of my rampaging emotions. “I’m just so…angry about this, Mum,” I said. “I’m so angry at the bastards who did this to me! And not to know for sure if it’s going to happen again makes me even angrier.” I shot a glance at my window, which suddenly blew apart.

Mum yelped at the sight, but with a quick wave of her wand, the window came back together again.

“I’m sorry, Mum,” I murmured. “It’s…”

“What?”

“I want to kill them,” I whispered. I hardly knew myself in that dark moment. “I want to kill them, stomp on them, burn them, cut them into shreds!”

She nodded. I wondered whether I’d shocked her too much. “That’s understandable, George,” she replied. “In fact, I might join you.”

“I’m being serious, Mum!”

“So am I!”

“Every time I see them I know that all I need to do is imagine it and it’s done! They’re DEAD! Every day I have to hold back and it’s killing me!”

I hadn’t expected to make my mother cry, but to my horror and shame, she sniffled and wiped away tears as I spoke so openly. I think I broke her heart.

“Do you think I’m crazy, Mum?” I asked, reaching out to wipe her tears away.

“I think you’ve been horribly hurt, George. I think you’ve been terribly traumatised by this, and I’m so proud of you for being so strong since it happened.” She smiled. “You have every right to lash out in violence, and the fact that you haven’t shows just how decent and moral and amazing you are.”

The door slammed downstairs, and we heard voices shouting, then heavy footsteps on the stairs, running.

“Tom!” Freddy shouted.

Then a door slammed. Freddy rushed to the door and knocked loudly. No answer. He knocked again.

“Tom! Come on!” he pleaded.

Mum and I came out of my room, worried all over again.

“Freddy, what’s going on?” Mum demanded sternly.

Freddy pointed his wand at Tom’s door. “Muffliato!”

“Is Jeremy alright?” I asked.

“He’s pretty banged up, but he’ll be fine.” Freddy shuffled his feet. “His parents kicked him out.”

“Shit,” I murmured. “I guess Tom must be pretty steamed about it.”

“They didn’t beat him, did they?” Mum asked.

Freddy shook his head. “He got Obliviated, so he has no idea who jumped him. They’re going to get an Obliviator try to get the memory from him.” He sighed. “He and Tom broke up.”

“What?” I exclaimed. “What happened?”

Freddy rolled his eyes impatiently. “Jeremy was throwing around some pretty harsh language, and then he just turned on Tom and blamed him and you, George, for what happened to him. So then they got into a huge fight, and then Tom broke up with him.”

“Tom did?” Mum exclaimed. She pointed her wand at the door. “Alohomora!” Nothing happened.

“Dammit,” Freddy muttered.

“Sticking charm,” Mum said. She knocked on the door. “Tom? It’s Mum. Let me in, please.” No response. Mum knocked again. “Tom? Let your mother in the room. NOW!”

At first, nothing, but then…

* * * * *

She didn’t come downstairs for an hour. I was actually really impressed with my mother just then. She’d sat there very patiently and listened to my sob story and now she was doing the same for Tom. Honestly, I don’t know how parents do it sometimes. Mum can be pretty harsh sometimes, pretty strict, but she’s incredibly caring and understanding, especially when we’re really hurting.

When Tom finally emerged from his room, he and Mum were actually laughing and joking about, which surprised me. The first thing he did when he got downstairs was to rummage through the fridge for a snack.

“All this drama makes a growing boy hungry,” he said, sticking a chicken leg in his mouth.

“Are you okay?” I asked. I conjured an apple pie and helped myself to a huge piece.

Tom sighed. “No, not really. I don’t know. We’ll talk, you know, maybe work it out.”

“How is he?” I asked. I wasn’t sure I should have asked that.

“A mess, actually,” Tom said, helping himself to some of the pie. “I feel really bad for him, I mean, after June, he’s got nowhere to go.”

“What’s he going to do?” Lydia asked, taking some pie for herself.

Tom shrugged. “Maybe stay with his lesbian aunt. I don’t know, I mean, this all just happened. Who knows? Maybe he’ll work things out with his folks.”

“Do you really think they will?” Lydia asked skeptically.

Tom shook his head. “I guess not.”

We didn’t see Jeremy the next day on the Hogwarts Express, though I looked high and low for him as I went through the entire train to take roll. Jane didn’t see him either. We didn’t see him at the feast, and we didn’t see him the next morning either.

“Maybe he was really badly hurt,” I supposed.

“Maybe his parents refused to pay for him any more,” Paige suggested.

I hadn’t seen much of Paige during our holiday, which really disappointed me. I had wanted to reignite our relationship, which I knew was lagging a bit—it was my fault, or at least mostly. I don’t think she quite got over the sex scandal, even though I was totally innocent. The power of suggestion is pretty intense, and I’m sure that she could still see those awful pictures of what looked like me and Althea getting in on.

We made up for some lost time in the Silver Room Friday night, well after hours. Paige was as warm and affectionate as ever, but I sensed something, too, something different about her. I worried a little…OK, I worried a lot.

“So what’s going on?” I asked. I had just surfaced from a serious liplock with her. We held each other close and incredibly comfortable.

“Nothing,” she said. Was that dejection I detected in her voice?

“You’re not mad at me or anything, are you?” OK, so I was starting to sound pretty insecure. Whatever.

Paige kissed me tenderly, longingly, hungrily, then sat back and smiled kittenishly. “Does that answer your question?”

I laughed.

“I missed you during the holiday,” I said, kissing her fingertips. She smelled like jasmine.

“Mmm…” She kissed my throat, my shoulders, tugging at the bottom of my shirt. She smoothed her soft hands over my bare back, under my shirt, getting me so aroused that I had to struggle not to make her clothes vanish. And when Paige straddled my legs and leaned into me, allowing my hands to wander where they might, well…

What Mum and Dad don’t know won’t hurt them.

* * * * *

The next day, though, as Paige and I took a long, very romantic but very snowy walk around the lake, she finally opened up to me.

“There’s something you need to know,” she said, taking my gloved hand in hers. “It’s about Pansy.”

“Your Mum?”

Paige scowled. “She’s trying to get custody of me. Daddy’s had to go to the Wizengamot about it, to prevent her from getting to me.”

I thought about how traumatised she was after her mother kidnapped her a year and a half ago and taken her all the way to Dubai before Mr. Malfoy found her back in London. Ever since then, he’s kept a very close eye on his daughter and made very sure that she stays far away from her mother.

“Do you want to spend time with her?” Another rotten question.

“Are you kidding? The bitch abandons me and Abraxas and suddenly she wants to take me from Daddy? She can forget it. Daddy took me away for a little while,” she admitted. “We have a house that nobody knows about, a place that exists on another plane.”

I sniggered. “Like Scotland?”

Paige laughed and socked me in the arm. “No, stupid, on another plane. Another dimension.”

“Oh come on! You can’t be serious!”

“Of course I’m serious! Daddy is one of the few wizards who knows how to access other dimensions of existence.”

“He should be an Unspeakable,” I quipped.

Paige kicked my backside playfully. “He’s the only one who can apparate inside Hogwarts, you know. He does it by creating a whole dimension that exists in the world but is separate from it at the same time.”

“That’s crazy!” I laughed. “That’s amazing! So has he passed that knowledge on to you?”

“No. He won’t even tell your father, and he tells your father everything. He kissed him once.”

“Who?”

“Daddy kissed your father once, years ago.”

“Why?” The thought disturbed me just a bit. I wonder if Mum knew. I wondered when it happened. More worries. A couch appeared to our left—Paige giggled.

She shrugged. “Anyway, I have to be a bit careful right now, George,” she said, heading over to the couch and sat down. “If Pansy tries to have me taken from school, then I don’t know what will happen. Daddy just might kill her.”

That night as I headed out to do rounds, Jane stopped me, a stern look on her tight face. I wondered if she’d relapsed and turned into a bitch again.

“You alright?” I asked. After having so much drama these days, I worried that Jane would bring even more.

“Fine,” she said stiffly. “Rob and I made up over the holiday.”

“I’m sorry to hear it,” I replied flatly. “You deserve better.”

Jane pressed her lips so tightly, all I could see was a thin, straight line. “That’s why we broke up again just now.”

“Just now?”

She groaned dismissively. “He thought what happened to Jeremy Spinnett was hilarious. I told him off.”

“I guess he didn’t like that so much.”

“Bastard toe rag. I broke it off and then I hexed him.”

“YOU? The illustrious Head Girl who never breaks a rule?”

Jane scowled. “Shut up, Chaucer.”

“I’m proud of you, Jane. Seriously. Dorsett had it coming. So what was it, anyway? Cruciatus?”

“NO! That’s terrible! I just used a sticking charm on him and stuck him on the ceiling. The very highest ceiling I could find.” And then Jane did the astonishing…she laughed! Not out of cynicism or from being an annoying know-it-all, but because she was truly, genuinely amused. It was a great moment.

“Hey, did you take a picture?” I laughed.

“Yes. Well, once I found my camera, that is.”

I thought for a moment. “Say, maybe that should be our next publicity poster. Be a bigoted prat and end up stuck to a ceiling!”

“I know about you and Paige, by the way,” she added.

“What do you mean?” I asked, suddenly furious and embarrassed. “You weren’t watching us, were you?”

“No, but if you do it again, you’d better use a charm to keep the noise down!”

I turned about six shades of purple. Thankfully, Jane was impersonal and cold enough to change the subject to something more distracting…such as Ellie and Malachi.

“Speaking of sex fiends,” she said, “I think I might have proof that Gray and Zabini were in on the pictures.”

“Did they confess?”

“No, but once I get my picture of Rob developed, I’ll have a better idea.”

“So Ellie was the one who used your camera?”

“I don’t know why else it was sitting on her trunk. We used to be friends, after all. We always borrowed each other’s stuff.”

“But do you remember specifically lending her your camera?”

“No, but we often borrowed without asking.”

“I hope you’re right, Jane.”

In truth, I hoped she was wrong. I didn’t want this to be true, that my ex-girlfriend was really serious about tormenting me like this. OK, so I’d heard her practically admit to her role, but she also said she didn’t know I’d be tortured by the potion. That had to count for something, even if she did participate in the sex pictures. When we were dating, back in my fifth year, life was sweet. We had been so loving, so affectionate, so good for each other, and once we broke up, I think something inside me sort of died. Was it my innocence that had gone away or my unblemished idealism?

Had we stayed together and worked out our problems, I wonder what she would be like. Would she have changed anyway? Would she still be so cold-hearted and snippy and cruel? Would she have taken advantage of me and used me? I guess I’ll never know. One thing I did know, however, was that I never wanted to speak to her or even to look at her again in my life. I knew that was impossible, of course—I wished I could vanish her to another part of the school, but of course, that was impossible. I’d just have to be a man and take it.

Paige made things a lot easier, thankfully, and actually, so did Jane, if you can believe it. Her strength supported me in my darkest times, where I could just get to work and do my job and set my troubles aside. On the other hand, what I’d confessed to my mother remained with me, and as time passed, that need for violent revenge took hold in me like never before. Dark, gruesome thoughts roamed the corners of my brain at night, populated my dreams, filling me with new fear…of myself.

A week later, I sent an owl to Dad:

_Dad,  
I thought over what you and Mum said about therapy, and I think I need help. I’m not sleeping well and I’m starting to have some bad thoughts that I don’t want to act on. So if you can maybe set something up for me, Dad, I’d really appreciate it, and if we can keep this between us, I’d also appreciate it._

_Tom is doing alright. He and Jeremy still aren’t together, but Tom is doing fine. He hasn’t been on the skateboard much these days—too busy, and I think he might be seeing someone new (not sure, so don’t ask him!!!). Haven’t seen much of Theo these days. I think he’s got some muggle exams coming up, so he’s been at the library a lot, studying._

_Anyway, Dad, I miss you and I hope all is well. Give Will a big hug for me._

_Love,  
George_


	18. The Purloined Parchment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _So there we all were, drinking down butterbeer and eating piles of crisps and peanut butter pretzels, when we saw Caldwell and Dorsett passing by, literally dragging a struggling Malachi Zabini after them. It made me happy to know that Malachi was getting his comeuppance._
> 
> _“I bet they found out about the parchment,” Theo said to Jane._
> 
> _“What parchment?” I asked, curious._
> 
> _“Ravenclaw business. Malachi had some parchment in his trunk, something written in some runic language that only he and a couple of others could decipher, I suppose,” Jane told us._

Hogsmeade is quite a place.

Every month, we Hogwarts students get to traipse down to the small wizard town and have a blast. Most of us take time to go Honeydukes for some sweets, and then off to FaSt to check out the new wizard skateboards—Tom is a regular customer, unfortunately for Mum and Dad. He once got into a pretty bad accident where he nearly crashed into a tree. It wasn’t quite a full-impact crash, but his shoulder got broken in several places and he had a spectacular scrape all the way up his face. I swear he looked like a monster for a couple of days, that is, until Madame Smethwyck fixed him up. He still rides like crazy.

We also like going to Zonko’s joke shop—we did lots of research for our uncles so they could improve on the ideas and make brand new, much better items. But there were a couple of things that only Zonko’s could do. Their fake wands were brilliant—they had one that would screech like a banshee and then fly around your head in circles before exploding into pink confetti. Nice.

Paige and I went to Madame Puddifoot’s tea room once, knowing that it was by far the most romantic place in the whole town. It was always decorated with lots of laces and flowers and it always smelled like cinnamon for some reason. I guess it was the tea and the scones that gave it that pleasant air. But once my relationship with Paige had…developed, we didn’t want all that girly romantic stuff any more. Instead, Paige and I found ourselves at the Hogs Head Inn, and no, not to take a room. The place was dingy and smelled like stale beer, but it was also free of most students, that is, except for our close circle of friends. 

Althea and Aidan came in with Nick and…Jane? Since when did that happen? Theo came, too, alone. I was happy to see him, especially considering his departure from our campaign. Sure, I was still more than a bit ticked at him for leaving us, but then again, he was a prime target of apes like Mulciber and Dolohov. Though they hadn’t done anything to him as of yet, there was still that chance, and I knew that Theo was extremely aware of that. Fortunately, he was in a pretty good mood—I guess all those trips to the cinema with Amber had cheered him up quite a bit. Another reason to appreciate Amber.

“So does Amber know about you?” I asked Theo.

“All Amber knows is that I’m a wicked snogger,” he replied with a smirk. “Why would I tell her anything anyway?”

Althea laughed. “No reason. Just don’t knock her up—she might not be able to handle it if she gives birth to a witch.”

“I have no intention of knocking her up,” Theo replied grandly. But then he grinned. “I’m a gentleman anyway.”

“Right, and my father’s a sweet guy,” Althea shot back. Aidan kissed her on the cheek.

“So good news on the campaign front,” I announced, suddenly wanting to change the subject before Althea crossed the line and get Theo upset. “Apparently the Ministry is looking for a date for us to have a hearing.”

“That is so great!” Paige squealed. She threw her arms around my neck.

“When did you hear?” Jane asked.

“Just after Christmas, actually. Nothing’s set yet, of course, but it means that we all have to be ready,” I replied. Both Nick and Aidan threw doleful glances at each other. I gulped. I had a very bad feeling about this all of a sudden. If I lost them and their sister, I didn’t have many left, and if any other disaster or attack happened, then I was screwed.

But I decided to set those worries aside for a while and just enjoy the day. So there we all were, drinking down butterbeer and eating piles of crisps and peanut butter pretzels, when we saw Caldwell and Dorsett passing by, literally dragging a struggling Malachi Zabini after them. It made me happy to know that Malachi was getting his comeuppance. 

“I bet they found out about the parchment,” Theo said to Jane.

“What parchment?” I asked, curious.

“Ravenclaw business. Malachi had some parchment in his trunk, something written in some runic language that only he and a couple of others could decipher, I suppose,” Jane told us. “Anyway, apparently he stole it from someone else and was hiding it, but then Rob found it.”

“Why would he hide it?” Althea asked.

“Probably a potion to make him a nice guy,” Nick quipped.

“That would take a bloody miracle,” Aidan replied.

“Well whatever it is, they were yelling and screaming at each other for over an hour last night,” Theo reported. “I thought they were going to start punching each other after a while! It was pretty hilarious, I mean, who cares about a stupid parchment?”

Nick laughed. “Probably stole someone’s notes for NEWT’s or something. Ravenclaws.”

“HEY!” Jane and Theo exclaimed together. And when Nick leaned over and gave Jane a quick kiss on the lips, I nearly fell off my chair. Paige poked me in the ribs.

I jumped up. “I’m following them.”

“George! Don’t!” Theo called. “They’ll kill you! Seriously man, don’t!”

“Don’t worry!” I called back, running towards the door. “I have a way! Don’t wait for me, in case anything happens.”

But Paige wasn’t having that. She jumped up to follow me, but I turned back and grabbed her by the arms. “Seriously, Paige, I have to do this alone. I can’t have anyone else around making noise! Please!” I let go of her suddenly, realising how hard I’d gripped her. “Sorry, love.”

“Be careful. Those blokes are the ones who want you horribly murdered.”

“I know. Just trust me!”

And with that, I ran for it, ducking behind a wide tree to Disillusion myself before I went a step further. I also had to catch my breath—it wouldn’t work if they could hear my heavy breathing. Once Disillusioned, I took off as carefully and as quietly as I could manage, doing my best not to step on any twigs or crunchy leaves. 

It didn’t take me long to see where they’d gone—I simply followed their footprints along the snowy path, making sure to leave no footprints of my own. On I went for a few more yards, and then I found them literally pounding on Zabini. Dorsett was holding Zabini’s arms behind him while Caldwell punched and punched and punched—Zabini’s face was bloodied and bruised, and when Dorsett finally let go of him, Zabini collapsed to the ground in a heap. Caldwell dug into Zabini’s robes, triumphantly producing the purloined parchment.

“Got it!” he shouted with glee.

“Thank the gods!” Dorsett growled, relieved apparently. Looking down on the gasping, bleeding Zabini, Dorsett spat on him. “That’s the last time you jeopardise the operation, pretty boy.”

“My uncle didn’t devise this for it to be thrown around like it’s nothing, you stupid idiot!” Caldwell sneered. He kicked Zabini in the stomach, hard.

“And if you breathe a word of this to anyone,” Dorsett added fiercely, “it’s the very last thing you’ll ever breathe.” He kicked Zabini in the face, breaking his nose.

I had to think very fast. It was now or never.

“Accio parchment!” I thought, pointing my invisible wand at them. And just like that, the parchment flew out of a stunned and horrified Caldwell’s hand, disappearing into my own, invisible one. And when I saw him looking around in total shock for the origin of the spell, I disapparated straight to London, straight to the front door of the Ministry of Magic. I knew I was truant then, but this was more important, and so, I ran inside and asked the Welcome Witch to see Commander Ronald Weasley.

“Weasley?” she echoed in her nasally voice.

“It’s urgent,” I insisted.

“Hey, aren’t you supposed to be in school?” she asked, giving me a look of recognition. “You’re Chaucer’s boy, right?”

“I need to see Commander Weasley right now. It’s urgent!”

With a grunt and an impatient roll of the eyes, she alerted the Law Enforcement Office that the truant son of Nigel Weasley-Chaucer was here on an urgent matter for his uncle, Commander Ronald Weasley.

Uncle Ron responded within a couple of minutes, hurrying to the atrium to find out just what the hell I wanted and why the hell I wasn’t in school and did my father have any idea that I was truant.

“This is important!” I insisted again. “It’s about the potion! I think I finally have two important pieces of evidence! I need two things.”

Uncle Ron laughed, as if I were joking. I was not amused. “Just slow down, George, alright? One thing at a time!”

He lead me down the lift, through corridors and into the safe cocoon of his office, where he let me sit in his very comfortable black, leather chair and talk. The office was total chaos—it was a wonder he managed to find anything in the piles of papers that took up every available surface in the rather large office.

“So what’s up, George? Why is this so important that you had to leave school? Does Professor Snape know you’re gone?”

“No one knows.”

“Don’t you think they should? With all these threats, George, your absence is going to cause a panic!”

I hadn’t thought of that. Uncle Ron scribbled a note and summoned his assistant. I wondered whether Aunt Hermione knew just how blonde, curvy and pretty this assistant was.

“Zelda, send this to Chief of Staff Chaucer, at St. Mungo's,” he said, handing the note to her.

“Yes sir.” Zelda smelled like spring.

I pulled the parchment out of my pocket and laid it on the one small corner of desk that was unoccupied. On it was…nonsense. Just a bunch of letters and symbols that meant nothing. At least they meant nothing to me, though apparently they meant quite a lot to Caldwell and Dorsett.

“What’s this?” Uncle Ron asked, holding up the parchment for inspection. As I told him the story of how I acquired the parchment, he frowned, as if I’d said something wrong. “So when Caldwell said his uncle devised it, what do you think he meant?”

“I think it’s a code. I think it’s the recipe for the potion that tortured me. I think Zabini wanted to recreate it for himself or to sell the secret for a small fortune. I think that’s why he stole it from Caldwell.”

“Or Dorsett. Isn’t Zabini in Ravenclaw?”

“He could have stolen it any time.”

“True.”

“Uncle Ron, I need two things. First, I need a glass phial and a Pensieve, and then, I need a code-breaker. The first will let me preserve the memory, and the second will…” But I stopped, flustered by my uncle’s wide grin. “What?”

“You are so much like Nigel! Bloody brilliant!” he chortled. “But alright, George, time to be serious.”

“This is it, right?” I asked eagerly.

“It could be.”

“So you’ll get someone on it? Someone who can decipher the code?”

“Yeah, alright? We’re on it! George, I want you to get back to school and let us sort this out.”

“What about the memory? Don’t you want a record of what I saw?”

“We’ll take care of that before you leave, George! Don’t worry!”

“Don’t worry? Are you bloody kidding? That’s all I do!”

Uncle Ron cuffed me on the shoulder and pulled me to my feet. “You did great, George, seriously. You thought on your feet and brought us some pretty great stuff. Just let us figure out what this thing is and then we can go from there.”

* * * * *

But no one got arrested, to my disappointment. A whole week passed and I didn’t hear a word from Uncle Ron. Another week passed, and again, no word from him or from anyone else. I worried. I got angry, too. Then I rebuked myself before I got all worried again. Had he forgotten? Had he written me off as an overeager kid? Did he lose the parchment in the tangle of crap in his overcrowded office?

“Just relax, mate,” Theo said. We sat at the Hufflepuff table, revising for a philosophy exam, making our way through a third bowl of crisps. Paige joined us finally, though she looked pretty downcast.

“What’s up?” I asked, giving her a quick kiss on the lips.

She shook her head and opened her Charms book.

“Paige?” I repeated. “What is it?”

“George, let me study,” she snapped.

“Are you alright?” Theo asked. “It’s not your Mum again is it?”

Her eyes flashed for a moment, but then her face fell. “Thea and Aidan broke up.”

“Shit,” I muttered. “Why?”

Paige sighed. “Aidan’s dropping out…out of the campaign. Nick, too.”

“Dammit,” I grumbled. Theo blushed.

“George,” he started.

“Don’t!” I retorted. “Sorry, man.”

“You don’t know what it’s like.”

“I know damn well what it’s like, Theo. Don’t give me that shit.”

“You don’t face a future like ours,” he shot back.

“Why do you think I’m doing this?” I argued. It was hard not to yell my head off at that point. “For fun? Out of boredom? I’m doing this for you and them and everyone like you! I know damn well what it’s like to face a future like yours, Theo! Remember?”

“But that’s your past,” he replied harshly. “It’s our present!”

“And where will you get with your rights so limited? Don’t you get it?” I stopped, though, seeing Paige’s distress. Plus, more than a few people were gawking at us, whispering and giggling at our little row. “Look, I’m sorry, alright? I’m not trying to be insensitive or anything. You do know that, Theo, right?”

Theo nodded. “I know. I tell you, man, it scares me a little. I have no way of defending myself against you people, and neither do Nick or Aidan. You guys can take on these jerks, but I can’t. You have to understand that.”

“I do,” I replied.

“Those threats are serious,” Theo added.

“And so far, I’m the only one who got tortured.”

“What about Jeremy Spinnett?” Theo pointed out.

“That was gay-bashing!” Paige shot back. “That had nothing to do with the campaign!”

“Are you so sure?” Theo asked. “Everyone knows he was helping you, and the fact that he was shagging Tom doesn’t help things much.”

“He wasn’t shagging Tom!” I hissed.

Theo smirked. “You think Tom would really tell you what they were getting up to?”

“Yeah, I do!”

“He didn’t even tell you he was gay! You think he’s going to describe the details of his encounters?”

“You calling me a liar, Scrimgeour?” a very huffy Tom asked, appearing at Theo’s shoulder.

Theo blushed deep scarlet, but he didn’t back down. “You’re calling Spinnett a liar?” he retorted.

“Can we not have this conversation in the middle of the Great Hall?” Paige suggested.

“No, Malfoy,” Tom replied, “let’s say this right here. Hell, everyone seems to know all sorts of shit about me anyway, so maybe I need to find out just what I’m up to, since I’m pretty fucking clueless!”

“So all that stuff Spinnett said is a lie?” a redheaded girl next to Theo asked.

“What’s he been saying?” I asked, now as angry as Tom.

The girl blanched. “Oh, well, you know…the usual stuff you guys do.”

“And what exactly is the usual stuff?” Tom asked, totally incensed. The plates on our table rattled a little.

The girl tittered and pointed downward. “You know, he said you…you know…down there.”

Someone laughed, but Tom looked murderous. The plates shook even more.

“You know what?” he seethed. “I think that total lying prat Spinnett and I need to have a little conversation and get a few things very clear!” he shouted, tromping up the aisle and out of the Great Hall. Plates and books and glasses trembled violently as he tore past. And with a sharp wave of his wand, the heavy doors of the Great Hall slammed shut with a massive shudder.

“Go after him, George,” Paige said. “Don’t let him go off like that.”

“What do you want me to do about it?” I asked. “I’d be pretty pissed off, too.”

“But they’ll fight, won’t they?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe they’ll just shout at each other.”

Paige frowned. “You know Tom won’t just shout. He’ll act, and you know he’ll kick Jeremy’s arse.”

Althea stood up. “I’ll go. Better it be me, seriously.” Before any of us could stop her, Althea was up the aisle and out the door.

“Maybe he won’t find Spinnett,” Theo offered.

“He’ll find him,” I said gravely.

Twenty extremely tense minutes passed, all of us trying to ignore our worries and focus on our studies. I poured over my Philosophy notes, but nothing took. Who cared about Voltaire when my brother was likely in a terrible fistfight with his ex? I should have gone out there and stopped it. I decided it was long enough and I had to act—it wasn’t fair for Althea to take the brunt of their conflict, no matter what she claimed.

But before I could get out of my seat, Althea finally returned, grinning. I didn’t know what to think or say.

“What happened?” Paige asked, alarmed as I was at Althea’s strange attitude.

“Men,” she laughed, shaking her head. “They think girls are strange!”

Five minutes later, Tom and Jeremy returned to the Great Hall, their faces bruised and battered and…smiling? I also noticed, as did everyone else, that they were holding hands, ecstatic to be in each other’s presence after such a long rift.

“You guys are so weird,” I commented as they plopped down next to Theo.

“What happened?” Paige asked again.

Tom shrugged nonchalantly. “We had a little chat…”

“You call that a chat?” Theo exclaimed, noting the bloodstains on Tom’s collar. “I hope I never chat like that!”

“…and we finally saw eye to eye on things,” Tom continued.

“After we blacked each other’s eyes,” Jeremy added.

Althea grunted. “They were sort of wrestling each other and I must say, you had Tom in a great headlock, but then Tom wriggled out of it and popped Jeremy in the eye…”

“After he punched me in the back!” Tom said defencively.

“And then,” Althea continued, “I guess they sort of tired of it all because the next thing I knew, they…” She blushed. “Well, they made up. Rather loudly.”

“If it’s worth doing, it’s worth doing right,” Tom quipped. Jeremy laughed and kissed Tom on the bruised cheek.

“George,” Jeremy said, turning to me, “I’m sorry I blamed you for my family problems, by the way. It wasn’t your fault that my family flipped out. Tom and I should have been more discreet.”

“Are you okay?” Paige asked him.

“Not really,” Jeremy replied. “But I will be. I have a few options.”

“But you still have two more years of school!” she said. “How will you manage? Did they cut you off?”

“Apparently there’s a scholarship fund for guys like me,” Jeremy said.

“You mean pathetic little pansies?” Dorsett sneered as he passed by.

Tom scowled. “What do you know about pathetic little pansies, Dorsett?”

“Not as much as you, apparently. Too bad I missed the girlfight, Chaucer,” he added. “I heard the good money was on Spinnett here, but then again, the two of you together don’t add up to a real man.”

Jeremy opened his mouth to shout at Dorsett, but Tom stopped him with a smirk.

“Girlfight?” Tom asked.

Dorsett squared his shoulders. “Yeah, girl. A stupid, prissy girlfright.”

Althea looked murderous, but again, Tom only grinned.

“You think I’m a girl, Dorsett?” he asked coolly.

“I think you’re a weak, mincing little faggot girl,” Dorsett growled.

“So you think girls are weak?” Tom asked. “Personally, I’ve always thought girls were pretty strong. Then again, I hang around with normal girls, not with little shag machines like Little Miss Gray over there.”

Dorsett’s face turned bright red. He lunged at Tom, but Theo and Aidan jumped up to stop him. I should have put an end to it all, but I knew that Tom had at least one more good line in him, so I let him have it.

Tom laughed, standing up to face Dorsett. He pushed his red hair out of his eyes and looked Dorsett up and down. “So tell me, Robby, do you have a basic understanding of human anatomy?”

“What?”

“You heard me. You know basic human anatomy? That is, beyond what’s in your trousers?” We all laughed at that.

Dorsett rolled his eyes impatiently. I noticed that Professor Snape and Professor Longbottom were watching this exchange with great interest. “Yeah, I know anatomy very well, Chaucer!”

“I mean beyond your Friday night solo activities!” Tom went on, his voice thick with sarcasm. Jeremy snorted. “Now I’m going to guess here that you and I look fairly much the same, that is, where it counts, so it makes me wonder why you would call me a girl. Why is that, Robby?”

Dorsett narrowed his eyes at Tom, who had drawn himself up to his full height—I hadn’t noticed how tall Tom had gotten this year, nearly as tall as Uncle Ron. “Alright, Chaucer, you’re not a girl. You’re a freak.”

Tom smirked. “Is that really all you’ve got? _Freak_? You’re not serious, are you? Say, Robby, I’ve got a suggestion for you. Why don’t you take a nice trip to the Whomping Willow if you’re such a big man, and take your chances? Deal? Either that or put your money where your stupid, fat mouth is!”

Without another word, Dorsett turned on his heel and stormed off, muttering profanities under his breath.

Tom sat back down as the rest of us cheered loud and long for him, only he wasn’t smiling any more—in fact, his hands shook slightly as he tried to compose himself. He threw me a doleful look and mouthed “I’m sorry.” I conjured a cauldron cake and floated it over to him—after all, he’d just done a great thing and deserved to be richly rewarded.

But this was only the beginning for Rob Dorsett. Within another week, things would begin to look very different for him, and frankly, I feared for him…and for my own survival. Had I known the firestorm that was about to erupt…I don’t know. It’s so hard to say whether I would have done things differently. In a real way, I hope not.


	19. Blackout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _With Lethargis running through my veins again, I felt soft and free and focused. I wandered through the corridors blithely, happily waving to the paintings, rejoicing that I had finally conquered my fear—plus, I was a bit buzzed on the potion. OK, so maybe I didn’t need three drops. Oh well._
> 
> _But, at the top of the stairs on the fifth floor…_
> 
> _Voices behind…whispers…and…_

That night, I slept like a baby. It would be a long time before I ever slept so well again.

But for now, I was a peace with my brother, happy to see him happy, relieved to be with Paige, and grateful that people like Jane Fowler still supported me. So what if we put Rob Dorsett in a tight spot? So what if my brother insulted his manhood? What mattered was that Dorsett was made to feel inferior, stupid, fallible. I know that sounds terrible, but in the general scheme of things, it was actually good for him.

One of the things Dad always says about people like Mr. Malfoy and even Professor Snape is that sometimes, they have to be smacked around a bit, well, not literally or anything. But they need to hear the word “no” sometimes, and they have to be shown the foolishness of their arrogance and pride from time to time, just to keep them human and relatively normal. So why should Dorsett be any different? He had done a horrible thing to me, but then again, Mr. Malfoy and Professor Snape had done horrible things in their pasts. If they could come around, anyone could.

I liked to remain vaguely hopeful, just in case I was right. It was a slim chance, but one I was willing to take.

I awoke the following morning to an urgent message to come straight to the Headmaster’s office, before breakfast, before Head Boy duties, before anything. I small shimmer of hope brightened my heart as I rushed there, daring to imagine Law Enforcement officers ready to arrest Dorsett and Caldwell for torture and attempted murder. What I got was almost the case, but not quite.

Uncle Ron was there, along with Jane’s father and four uniformed officers. Also present were the Caldwells—the wizard uncle, that is—along with parents of Malachi and Dorsett, and a Squib cousin of Ellie’s. Jane was there, the heads of houses, my parents, and all four of the little cabal. Walking into that scene was like heading into slow train crash, not quite painful but extremely stressful all the same. My mouth ran dry as Professor Snape motioned for me to sit.

“Hi,” I said, suddenly feeling extremely stupid…and completely naked.

Uncle Ron approached me and squatted down before me, as though I were five years old. “George, we have reason to believe that these four fine citizens are responsible for what happened to you right after Halloween. Based on your previous evidence given us, we now are ready to act on that evidence and put them under arrest.”

“Arrest?” I exclaimed. “You’re serious?”

“Yes. Based on what we saw in the Pensieve and on what you told us a while back, we finally have evidence to prove to the Wizengamot that they are guilty at a minimum of first degree assault, and perhaps even attempted murder.”

Malachi turned white. Ellie sobbed into her Ravenclaw scarf. Dorsett and Caldwell stood erect, looking perhaps more defiant than they truly felt. To be honest, I don’t really know what they felt, though I was fairly certain that they must have been shit-scared at the prospect of being sent to Azkaban.

Mr. Zabini, an extremely handsome, extremely elegant and fashionable man with beautiful silvery hair, spoke up on his son’s behalf. “Now see here, Commander,” he started, sounding eloquent and educated and intimidating, “I think that is a rush to judgement. After all, these are children of whom we speak.”

“Will all due respect, sir,” Uncle Ron shot back, “All but Miss Gray are over the age of seventeen, and were seventeen when the crime took place. They’re not exactly children any more.”

Dad and Mum nodded in agreement.

“This is ridiculous,” Mr. Zabini said dismissively. “You have no proof that my son did anything other than get involved with a couple of thugs who sought to exploit my son’s influence and considerable financial resources.”

“Well I have evidence that says you’re wrong,” Uncle Ron fired back, by now slightly huffy. He couldn’t stand stuck-up snobs like Zabini.

“My son is NOT going to spend his life in that hole Azkaban!” Mr. Zabini shouted, by now losing his cultivated cool. “I assure you, Commander, that I will use every resource I possess to make sure that my son is not victimized by those hooligans nor by the prince of the privileged class!”

By that, he meant me. Dad jumped up, furious.

“Prince of the privileged class?” he roared. “Shut up you rich, overfed prat!”

“Nigel!” Mum snapped.

“Oh come on, Ginny! Listen to him! He thinks that what his son did to George is nothing?”

“I didn’t say that,” Mr. Zabini retorted sharply. “I understand that your boy was injured.”

“It was an accident!” Ellie moaned. “I didn’t know it would do that, George! I swear it!”

“And you didn’t do a damn thing about it!” Dad bellowed at her. Ellie recoiled in terror.

“Nigel!” Mum snapped. “She’s a student!”

“And she tortured my son!”

“Nige, you really need to calm down before I have to chuck you out,” Uncle Ron said dangerously.

Dad opened his mouth to fire back, but seeing the look of fright on nearly everyone’s faces, he relented. He sat down and looked away.

“So you are confessing?” Uncle Ron asked Ellie. “You’re admitting you played a role in all this?”

Ellie burst into a new flood of sobs and nodded. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!”

I really wanted to believe her. I really did. I wanted to believe somehow that all the pain and anguish she’d caused me was suddenly too much for her and that, looking back on our relationship, she know understood that she really did feel sorrow for her actions. And then I woke up. It was a small look in her eye, a tiny flash of cynicism barely detectable that I caught in her as she reached into her pocket to get a handkerchief.

“Don’t you see, Commander Weasley?” Ellie’s cousin pleaded. “She didn’t know what she was doing. She was tricked into it.”

“And did nothing about it,” Uncle Ron retorted.

“I was threatened!” Ellie shouted.

“You weren’t threatened!” I replied. “That is a total lie, Ellie! You went along with the whole thing!”

“I didn’t know they were going to do that to you!”

“Maybe not, but once you found out, you did nothing!” I shouted. “I don’t get it, Ellie! I don’t get what happened to you! You never used to be like this and all of a sudden…” But I stopped, too filled with grief to continue.

Malachi suddenly spoke up. “I want to speak to Commander Weasley alone,” he said.

“There’ll be plenty of time for that at Azkaban,” Fowler said.

“Wait! You’re sending us to Azkaban?” Ellie shrieked. 

“She’s sixteen!” Ellie’s cousin protested. “You can’t send her to that awful place!”

“We can, actually,” Uncle Ron replied. “She’ll be in a cell without Dementors, but she will be in Azkaban. That’s where we send people who get their kicks by torturing someone.”

“But for how long?” Ellie asked.

“That’s for the judge to decide,” Fowler said, nodding at the uniformed officers. “Robert Dorsett, Albert Caldwell, Malachi Zabini and Eleanora Gray, you are all under arrest for the attack on George Weasley-Chaucer. If you would like to be represented by an attorney, you have that right, but be careful what you say. Anything you say can be used against you at the Wizengamot. Do you understand?”

Ashen faced, they all nodded. Malachi looked like he wanted to faint, but Dorsett and Caldwell stood tall and proud. I should have been happy to see them all like that, and in a way, I did, but I also felt terribly sad, not for the specifically, but for the fact that they had ruined their lives before they got a chance to live it. I didn’t know how long Ellie and Malachi would have to spend in Azkaban, but I had a feeling that Caldwell and Dorsett would be there for a long time.

* * * * *

For the student body, the arrests of their classmates was a grim affair. Never before had they seen a fellow student being led away under heavy guard by uniformed Law Enforcement officers, headed straight for prison. Paige gave me a hug, but some of my peers looked on me with anger and resentment.

“That is so unfair,” one Ravenclaw girl whispered to another.

“It’s not like they killed him or anything,” her friend replied. “It’s not like they beat him up or anything.”

“Yeah! It was just a joke!”

“Jerk.”

Fortunately, most of the others weren’t so blatant, and in fact, many expressed sympathy and relief that the problem was now over. I wondered, though. I still didn’t know why they had done this, and I wasn’t sure I even wanted to know. Was it about the campaign or about my father or about me? Was it that my girlfriend’s father was a Death Eater or that my father was Chief of Staff or that my grandfather had been Minister for Magic? My heart ached and I worried even more.

That night, I sat at the table in my rooms, staring down my little blue bottle of Lethargis that Dad had left for me in Professor Snape’s office. Tears flowed from my eyes as I told myself that I had to be brave and take the potion. I had to. I couldn’t live in fear any more. I cried and sobbed until finally, I knew I had to act. Either take it or throw it away.

I sighed and conjured a glass of orange juice—in my distress, I ended up conjuring twenty-four huge glasses of the stuff—and I reached for the little blue bottle, my hands shaking like a leaf. One drop, two drops, three drops in, then a little stir. I cried some more as I stared down the glass as if it were some mortal enemy, and then, at last, I picked it up and downed the contents.

For a moment, nothing happened. I worried…but then, the worry seemed to ebb away gently, just like it always did before when I took the Lethargis potion. Suddenly, I relaxed, felt even a little giddy. I splashed some water on my face, changed my soaked shirt and headed out to do my rounds.

* * * * *

Jane was late, but I didn’t mind. With Lethargis running through my veins again, I felt soft and free and focused. I wandered through the corridors blithely, happily waving to the paintings, rejoicing that I had finally conquered my fear—plus, I was a bit buzzed on the potion. OK, so maybe I didn’t need three drops. Oh well.

But, at the top of the stairs on the fifth floor…

Voices behind…whispers…and…

Everything went black…damn! Blackout powder!

But…

BAM!!! Something hit my head so hard I crumpled to my knees, totally stunned and in pain. I would have seen stars had it not been so dark, but the next thing I knew, someone had thrown a bag or something over my head and wrestled me down until I was laid out flat on my stomach.

“Hey!” I shouted, doing everything I could to fight them off. My heart pounded as I struggled to free myself.

But I got hit again—a hot hand clamped around my wrists, binding them—I desperately tried to wrestle them off me, get myself away, but I was dizzy and confounded by the blows to the head. What was going on? Who were these people? What did they want? Would they kill me? Beat me? Throw me out the window? I was totally at their mercy.

The hard toe of a shoe pounded into my side, again and again and again, each one exploding in terrifying pain. I cried out, but the kicking continued, harder, more vicious with each blow to my side, my back, my head, my arms. And then…

“Crucio!”

My aching body went rigid as unthinkable pain tore through me from head to foot, as if I had ingested that horrible potion all over again. My heart stopped for a quick, sickening moment, and then the spell lifted, leaving me shaken and aching. I felt something wet hit my neck…was it blood? No. It was spit.

The footsteps started to move away from me, but I didn’t move—I couldn’t move. Though this wasn’t anywhere near as bad as the potion had been, I was left in an awful state, and in terror that whoever had attacked me was hiding out, waiting for me so they could ambush me again. I wanted to Disillusion myself so I could get back to my rooms safely, but my arms were broken from being kicked so hard so often.

Reaching into my robes to get my wand was a heroic act, I’m convinced, mainly because I managed to do it without shrieking out in pain. I could barely hold onto the wand, but I did, and as I slowly, haltingly raised my wand to my bloodied head, I performed the charm and thankfully became invisible.

Getting to my feet was another problem. I was sure I had about ten broken ribs from being kicked, but I got up, panting hard and nearly passing out from the pain, then put a shuddering hand on the wall to balance myself as I staggered through the dark corridors, snaking my way back to my room. But the sound of a voice stopped me in my tracks. Male voices, whispering and laughing.

“We can get him out! Just send him a note that Chaucer wants to see him!” the voice said.

“He won’t believe it!”

“Yes he will! Then we can get them both! Kick their fat heads in!”

I hung back in the shadows, my whole body throbbing so horribly I wanted to collapse. But then they stepped out from their hiding place, high-fived each other and returned…to Slytherin house.

Oh gods.

I could tell Mucliber’s hulking frame even in the darkness, and when he laughed, I knew immediately that this was going to get even uglier than before. All that safety and assurance I’d felt after the arrest was cruelly jarred away, replaced by new worries, new pains, and more trouble that I definitely didn’t want.

I was sure they were talking about Theo—Mulciber’s favourite target for abuse was Theo. My heart sank as I realised Theo would have to be told. So would Professor Snape.

I wanted to go straight back to my rooms, but Mulciber and his goons were only twenty paces ahead of me, so instead, I ducked into the Prefect’s bathroom and collapsed onto the floor, moaning from the pain of so many broken bones. How did I get myself into all this? I moaned and groaned and cried all over again as my mind clouded from too much pain and too much strain. I managed to remove the Disillusionment charm so I could get help.

But how was I going to get out of this bathroom? It was one thing to struggle to my feet, motivated by a powerful rush of adrenaline and fear, but now, in the privacy of this grand bathroom, all I wanted to do was lose consciousness and pretend this was all just a nightmare, yet I needed a Healer…now. Again, I struggled to my feet, stopping to look at myself in the mirror. I gasped at the sight. My eyes were bruised and blackened, my nose was bleeding, and when I lifted up my shirt, I gasped in horror at the dark, ugly bruises on my sides. My right arm was bruised and broken, too, and for a second, I thought I was gazing into the eyes of a ghoulish stranger.

I wished I could apparate to the Hospital Wing, but instead, I trudged upward and over, nearly passing out more than a few times as new stabs of agony attacked me at each step. I pressed on, my heart overjoyed at the welcome sight of the Hospital Wing. I collapsed again, this time at the door of the Healer’s assistant, Madame Galen. She must have heard the loud thus as my head hit the floor, as she came dashing out to see what the trouble was.

“Oh good gods,” she muttered.

I blacked out.

* * * * *

I awoke sometime later to no pain, drastically reduced bruises, and an entire group of concerned people surrounding my bed, including, once again, my parents, and a very angry Professor Snape. Mum cried when I opened my eyes and moved to speak.

“Are you alright?” Theo asked, looking me over like a sausage.

“Are you?” I asked him, trying not to panic.

Theo made a face, as if I were trying to take the mickey out of him. “I’m good now, now you’re awake and alright.”

“So they didn’t get you?”

“No. Who are they?” he asked, now worried.

“Mulciber,” I replied. It still hurt a little to talk.

“Is he the one who attacked you?” Dad asked. He sat by me and stroked my forehead a little.

I nodded, though the slightest movement made my head hurt—plus, I was wrapped in about a ton of bandages, and my arm was in a sling. “Yeah, he and a couple of other apes,” I grumbled. “I was out on rounds, like usual, and just like that, they got me.”

“You mean they jumped you?” Dad asked.

“More or less.” I described the attack in stark detail, but when my anguished mother jumped up stormed to the window, I stopped. “I know why they did this,” I added.

“Why’s that?” Dad asked.

“Revenge. For Caldwell and the gang. I’m sure of it.”

“Don’t be so certain,” Professor Snape said darkly. “If they used an Unforgivable on you, they’re after more than just revenge. This is war.”

That made Tom stand up straight and proud, shoulders squared, looking extremely fierce and determined. “Well I’m not backing out of this campaign, no matter what Mucliber does. He can’t just do that and think we’re going to stop!”

“This is George’s decision, honey,” Mum said.

“It’s not! I do a lot for the campaign and so do a lot of us!” Tom retorted. “I really believe in it and I know it will be a success! Why do you think we’re being attacked like this?”

I was grateful, though for the first time, I began to have my doubts. I had been told so many times to quit or at least postpone more activities because of all these attacks. I knew my parents were extremely concerned for my safety, and at this point, I couldn’t exactly blame them. But to see my brother so eager and so brave convinced me…I had to stick with it, no matter what.

I sat up a bit, though it was a bit of a challenge because of all the bandages on my head, and the fact that my whole body was still really sore and slightly bruised from the beating I took. I took my mother’s hand and kissed it lightly. “Professor Snape,” I started, “do you suppose that Professor Binns would allow me to make a special speech to the History of Magic classes?”

Professor Snape snorted derisively. “You could talk for a whole hour, boy, and he wouldn’t know the difference.”

Dad frowned. “Wait a minute! Hang on! Don’t change the subject, George. Those boys have to be dealt with! We need to have them questioned and arrested and tried for assault.”

“Nigel, they used Blackout powder,” Professor Snape reminded him. “George can say he saw them in the corridor, but he can’t prove that this was anything more than a coincidence.”

“Oh come on, Severus!” Dad shot back. “You know damn well it’s no bloody coincidence!”

“Well of course it’s not!” Professor Snape sneered. “But there has to be proof! I can’t just hand out punishments based on vague reputations and rumours.”

Dad narrowed his eyes at him. “That never stopped you before,” he glowered.

Professor Snape looked like he just might punch my father. “Nigel, I haven’t done this in a long time,” he snarled, now pointing to the door. “Get out.”

“You can’t do that!” Dad protested.

“This is MY school and as long as you insist on behaving like a snot-nosed prat, you are not welcome here. Now get out.”

Mum glared at Dad, then took him by the hand and had to pull him towards the door. Jeremy put an arm around Tom’s waist. They leaned their heads together for a moment while Paige sat next to me on the bed, her legs stretched out next to mine. Theo gave me a hard look.

“What were these threats against me, George?” he asked quietly.

“What they just did to me they want to do to you. Theo, whether you're in the campaign or not, Mulciber is always going to be aiming for you. You just have to accept it and move on.”

“I know.” He sighed, twiddling his thumbs anxiously. “Look, maybe…maybe I can sort of, you know, do something. I don’t know sticking charms, but I’m good with thumbtacks, that is, if you need a poster put up.”

“With my permission, of course,” Professor Snape pointed out sharply.

“Oh, well of course, sir,” Theo replied, blushing a bit.

“George, I am going to act on this and on what you told us,” Professor Snape said. “Personally, I believe what you say, but you will have to accept that bringing these thugs to justice sometimes takes time, as it did with the Ravenclaw cabal.”

“I know. I trust you, sir,” I said.

Professor Snape glanced over to see that Madame Galen was waving at him furtively, mouthing something at him—I couldn’t tell what she was saying, but I could tell that it was something important. He turned back to the gathered throng.

“Don’t you all have things to do?” he asked silkily. “Mr. Weasley-Chaucer has much recuperation ahead, and he cannot do so with the proletariat making his life miserable. Get out.”

I suspected that he enjoyed telling people to get out. It’s just his way.


	20. The War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Things changed after a few days, once again reaching new and dangerous levels. I feared for Theo’s safety more than anything—Mulciber was looking for a fight, and it didn’t help things that Theo had thrown himself full force back into the campaign, even going so far as to stop people in the corridors to talk about the issue. I loved watching him get so involved so suddenly, and it was so amazing to see him so passionate about the issue at long last. Mulciber’s threat stuck out in my mind, however, and I wondered how long it would be before Theo landed in the Hospital Wing or worse, in St. Mungo’s._

Once the room had cleared, including Professor Snape, I received an entirely unexpected visitor—Kingsley Shaklebolt, former Minister for Magic and currently serving as Secretary for the office of International Magical Cooperation. I always admired Kingsley Shaklebolt, for his elegance, his grace and his boldness in all situations. He had aged a lot these last few years—Sasha was his youngest daughter, and she’s older than Freddy. So in he came, dressed impeccably in steel grey robes, looking very sober and very concerned for my welfare, though I had a sneaking suspicion that he wasn’t just here to inquire after my health.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, sitting down in a chair next to my bed.

“Sore. Tired.”

“I bet you are. Severus tells me you took quite a beating.”

“Yeah, I guess. Lucky I grew up with mostly brothers.”

“I’m sure your brothers broke your ribs like that.”

“Well no…” OK, it was stupid thing to say.

“Severus assures me he is taking the situation in hand, which gives me leave to talk to you about your project. My daughter is very excited about what you’re doing, George, and quite frankly, I think you’ve hit on something we should have addressed ages ago. Now you have to forgive us, George,” he explained, looking truly guilty. I felt little bad for him. “With Lord Voldemort rampaging and then the Geoffrey Taylor crisis, the Ministry has had little time to breathe and recover from such assaults.”

“I understand, sir.”

“But we’re finally at a point where we can start to look at those deeper social issues and start to modernise our society a little more. What do you say to that, George?”

“I think it’s great!”

“Excellent!” He looked very pleased at that point. “Now then, I’ve set up a commission comprised of different department heads and various officials, and we’ve set up a time for you to testify before us.”

If I hadn’t been so bandaged up, I would have leapt out of my bed and attacked him with a huge hug. I wanted to cry, this time for joy. “That’s…oh my gods! That’s awesome!” I babbled, sounding incredibly foolish. But who cared? I was finally getting somewhere!

“Now you know this is no guarantee of anything, George,” Kingsley reminded me. “We’re just a commission, an advisory committee of sorts, and your campaign is still controversial. Don’t expect smooth sailing on this. But if we like what you say and you can help us see the societal good in your proposal, then we can take it farther and get something done on it.”

“I’m so grateful, sir!” I exclaimed. I didn’t care that my recently healed broken ribs were killing me. “Thank you so much!”

“Then we expect to see you in two weeks time,” he said, now standing up.

Two weeks? “Uh, two weeks?”

“Is that a problem?”

Yes. “Well, sir, uh…no, I guess not. What about…”

“Severus is allowing you and whatever other witnesses you wish to bring with you to come to London for the day. So rest up and get yourself organized. What we really want to see is a definite plan, a specific outline of proposed measures. If you only give us theory or rhetoric, we can’t do anything with it. Can you do it?”

“I’ll do whatever it takes, sir.”

Two weeks? Was he mad, or was I?

* * * * * 

After word got out about the upcoming testimony at the Ministry, things got a little crazy. Those factions that had been growing only got more polarized, and though there weren’t any fistfights for a couple of days, the tension was definitely heating up. People said the only reason I was getting a hearing from the Ministry was because of my father, but then others said that it was because of the importance of the issue. A few shouting matches went on, making things very busy for me and Jane and the Prefects, and for the most part, we managed to keep a lid on most of the chaos.

But things changed after a few days, once again reaching new and dangerous levels. I feared for Theo’s safety more than anything—Mulciber was looking for a fight, and it didn’t help things that Theo had thrown himself full force back into the campaign, even going so far as to stop people in the corridors to talk about the issue. I loved watching him get so involved so suddenly, and it was so amazing to see him so passionate about the issue at long last. Mulciber’s threat stuck out in my mind, however, and I wondered how long it would be before Theo landed in the Hospital Wing or worse, in St. Mungo’s.

In the end, Tom was the next Weasley-Chaucer to be rushed to the Hospital Wing, only a week after my own release. The pressure was on. Fortunately, Tom’s injuries weren’t too bad, at least not as bad as mine were. Still, an attack is an attack, and the fact that someone actually beat up my little brother infuriated me.

So here’s what went down. Tom and Jeremy had gone on a long walk around the lake, as did many lovers. That evening at dinnertime, they kissed and flirted and laughed, as do many lovers. Later that night, they stole away to the Silver Room, as I had done so many times with Paige, and as Jane and Althea had done with their boyfriends. But only Jeremy showed up for breakfast the next day.

A Hufflepuff Second Year boy found my brother in a bloody, dazed heap at the mouth of one of the more remote corridors of the castle—no one knew why the boy went down there, nor why Tom was in that part of the castle, but we were grateful that he found Tom and raised the alarm. Like me, Tom had been kicked and beaten pretty badly, but at the same time, I also noticed—with great pride—that when Mulciber arrived to lessons that day, he sported a massive bruise on his jaw and one under his eye. My brother is no slouch when it comes to fighting. I wished I’d gotten in a couple of shots on Mulciber’s ugly face.

As it turned out, Mulciber’s bruises and my brother’s battered condition were enough proof for Professor Snape to put the thumbscrews to Dolohov and Avery, and when he threatened to expose to the press the very worst, darkest, most horrible details of their fathers’ Death Eater activities, not to mention their collections of dirty magazines, both boys were eager to talk, though they both minimised their role in both attacks. Still, it was enough to land the three of them before the Board of Governors, where they would have to convince the Governors not to expel them.

“They’re a menace,” a fully recovered Tom said a few days later at the Hufflepuff table. We were all sitting around studying, chatting, plotting.

“What were you doing in that part of the castle anyway?” Aidan asked.

Tom blushed.

Since the attacks on Tom and me, and especially since the news of the upcoming testimony, the school had sort of split even further into factions, with those sympathetic to us bickering and scuffling about anything—about the four Ravenclaws, about behaviour in the library, about who was out of bounds after hours, about anything at all. Some called Ellie a political prisoner, set up by the wizarding elite and isolated because she’s muggle-born and a girl. Never mind that she took part in a horrible act of torture.

But I didn’t have time to think on that any more, and had to let Jane and the Prefects bear the brunt of the brewing pandemonium. It was so ironic—everything that my father had done as Head Boy to unify Hogwarts now stood ready to be destroyed because of me. Maybe I’m being too hard on myself or something. All I knew is that, while my father was the Great Unifier, I was quickly becoming the Great Destroyer.

I had a week to finish my preparations for the hearing, so I sort of isolated myself in my rooms to get everything together. Theo had agreed to accompany me to London, as did June Jessup—we would be chaperoned by Professor Longbottom, which could be beneficial in itself since his own magical background was a bit sketchy. By the time the week was up, I had prepared an entire portfolio containing laws, rules, policies and even a few graphics to show the Ministry so they could see specifically what we wanted. I was excited but I was also pretty scared. If I said the wrong thing or failed to be as specific as Kingsley wanted me to be, then I might ruin everything for the Magically Challenged, and that was the last thing I wanted.

“You’re going to be fine,” Paige said to me the night before I left.

“Yeah,” Althea said. “You’re really clever and really well-spoken, George. I’ve seen you hold your own against my father, so I know you’ve got what it takes to present yourself really well.”

Aidan had draped himself around her—I guess that meant they were back together again. Still, I wondered whether he was feeling a bit uncomfortable at that moment, considering that he had abandoned the campaign and still hadn’t returned to us. He seemed so clingy, yet eager to listen. Strange. I wished I were a Legilimens so I could see what he was thinking.

* * * * *

Sleeping that night was nearly impossible, though I did take my potion—one drop only this time. I feared oversleeping and incurring the wrath of Professor Snape. When I awoke, I uttered a quick prayer before I got out of bed to take a shower, and continued to pray as I washed my hair, brushed my teeth and got dressed. Professor Longbottom arrived at half seven, looking chipper and slightly anxious.

“Ready?” he said brightly.

I hesitated. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

We joined Theo and June in the Great Hall for breakfast that morning—the rest of the student body jumped up and burst into applause as I walked in…that is, about half the student body burst into applause. The other half booed and hooted and when one person attempted to throw a handful of scrambled eggs in my face, Professor Longbottom reacted by making the eggs turn into chicken feathers and fly away. She got detention for two weeks.

Paige had already brought me a plate of piping hot eggs and bangers and toast, and though it all looked great, I didn’t have much of an appetite. Nerves had gotten the better of me, making me a bit on the queasy side. Thankfully I managed to keep my stomach, but I didn’t eat much either. I felt a lot better when Paige gave me a good-luck kiss—a really arousing, burning hot kiss, actually, as bystanders gave us wolf-whistles and applause—and when Althea and Tom and Jeremy and little Dursley and a few others gave me good luck hugs or pats on the back as I stood up to go.

We traveled by apparation—I apparated Theo and all my stuff, and Professor Longbottom apparated June, and together, we landed in an alley just down the street from the Ministry. We headed for the wizard entrance, but then I stopped.

“Let’s do this right,” I suggested. “Theo and June, you guys go in the Squib entrance.”

“What?” Theo shouted, thoroughly offended. “You can escort us through the wizard entrance, you know.”

“To make the point about the different entrances.”

“What will that accomplish?” June asked, equally offended. “Hey, we should do the opposite, go through the wizard entrance while you two go through the Squib entrance. That way we risk getting tossed out and you two see what the Squib entrance looks like.”

Actually, that was a great idea, and so, we parted ways, with Professor Longbottom and I heading for the Squib entrance, hoping that Theo and June wouldn’t get kicked out of the wizard entrance.

They did. Perfect.

A few minutes later, a red-faced and extremely huffy Theo and June found us in the Atrium, right next to the statue celebrating Magical Bretheren.

“What a joke,” Theo muttered.

“Ready?” I asked them all.

“Let’s do this.”

* * * * *

Walking into the conference room felt something like a death march. The room was long and white and sterile—nothing on the walls, no carpet on the floor, which made the sound echo loudly, and no windows anywhere. As we filed in, Kingsley and his committee sat on one side of the long table, all looking very sober and serious and grim. I tripped over my robes as I moved to sit at the table, and then Professor Longbottom had a small coughing fit as Kingsley opened his mouth to start the hearing.

“We have come here this morning to discuss the issue of civil rights and equal treatment for the Magically Challenged,” Kingsley stated, sounding very official. A very small, bald man in a far corner took copious notes as we talked. “I would like to welcome George Weasley-Chaucer, Professor Neville Longbottom, Mr. Theo Scrimgeour and Miss June Jessup to these proceedings, and I look forward to a fruitful and enlightening meeting.”

“What we expect to hear from you all,” a very old witch in bright green said, “is why any of this is even necessary. These regulations for Squibs were set down in the 1920’s, during a time when it became clear that if we did nothing to regulate the Squib population, our entire society would be in jeopardy. Rules were set in place to preserve our magical heritage and to make it clear that there is a hierarchy in our society. We believed that the concerns of wizards and witches are more important because they are the ones to carry on the magical legacy, whereas the Squib population was draining magic away from the rest of us.”

“And as these are new times,” Kingsley said politely, “I am of the belief that it is now important to hear what Mr. Weasley-Chaucer has to say and specifically what he has in mind for the future.”

“Thank you, Mr. Shaklebolt,” I replied, sounding far more formal than I ever wanted to. Everything was on the line, so I had to behave myself. “I am extremely grateful and excited to be here today to speak to all of you about this very important issue. When I began to research this issue, I had no idea of how bad the law is, and I definitely didn’t know how much of a reaction this would spark.”

“You were attacked, weren’t you?” a younger, very fat wizard asked. He wore bright blue robes trimmed in yellow.

“Three times. I was poisoned, I was slandered and I was beaten up,” I replied. “I’m still not entirely certain of the reason, for these attacks, though it is likely over this campaign.”

“Four students are in Azkaban over this, correct?” the wizard asked.

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“I heard the girl used to be your sweetheart,” another witch with very black hair mused.

“True, however, all these attacks serve to remind me of just how important it is to press onward with this, for the sake of Theo and June and so many others in our community.”

“Young man,” the witch in green said, “you are aware that if we don’t regulate Squib activity, we are at risk of compromising magic across the board, are you not?”

“No, ma’am,” I retorted. “Both my parents have very powerful magic, as do all my siblings. But I was born with little to no magic at all. It only surfaced when I was sixteen, and even then, at first, it was pretty weak.”

“But how many children of Squibs do you know?” she asked.

“With so many restrictions on marriage, the Magically Challenged are discouraged from intermarrying. I have four friends who will have to make that choice as long as the law remains the same, and I hate to think that such great couples would have to split up or get penalized because one of them happens to be Magically Challenged. It’s not fair. Who knows what they will produce? Who knows if just maybe their children will be the next Albus Dumbledores of the world?”

“But you don’t change a law simply because some people don’t think it’s fair,” she replied rather sternly.

“But if a law is unfair,” I challenged her, “then I think it’s worthwhile to take a second look. Is that asking too much?”

“That’s why we’re here, boy,” the wizard in blue retorted impatiently.

Kingsley sensed the tension and moved the conversation onward. “Then let’s get to the point, Mr. Weasley-Chaucer. What exactly do you want the Ministry to consider?”

OK, so this was my big moment. I braced myself, said a silent prayer, and launched ahead with my plan. I reached into my schoolbag, producing a thick packet of parchments, brochures and graphics to illustrate my point.

“In my study of wizard law, I have found a series of measures which are categorically discriminatory against the Magically Challenged, and in this day and age where our world is finally at peace, it is time to end these archaic practices and work towards being a more open society so that we don’t alienate anyone.”

“But it sounds to me like you want the Magically Challenged to do anything!” the black-haired witch protested.

“With all due respect, ma’am, I must disagree,” I replied, suddenly realising I was trying to sound like Professor Snape. “There are jobs in the wizarding world that even fully qualified witches and wizards cannot do, and I wouldn’t want to change that. Rather, I wish to see a change in the way that the Magically Challenged are regarded by our society. For example, they are charged a poll tax when they vote, and then their vote doesn’t even count as much as a wizard’s vote.”

“Yes,” the green-robed wizard replied, “but they don’t have the same interests in our society! Our votes have to count more!”

“But the Magically Challenged have to live in our society, yet they have little say in the laws that govern their lives. Now some would have them purged entirely from our society, however, that is neither humane nor is it practical. The Magically Challenged have grown up in our society and many have gone to the Patil Academy and to Hogwarts. Merely shoving them out puts everyone at risk of exposure. Those laws should thus be lifted.”

“Maybe your cousin made a mistake in admitting them to Hogwarts at all,” the black-haired witch suggested.

“I disagree,” I replied. “When my magic was dormant and my family thought I was Magically Challenged, they were able to keep me within our community, which was a good thing as I didn’t know anyone from the muggle world other than my grandparents and a handful of my father’s old friends. The Magically Challenged have been able to integrate into Hogwarts in a natural way, and in fact, is a model for how our whole society should be.”

Theo raised his hand to speak. Kingsley nodded his head towards him.

“I just wanted to add something to that, since I’m Magically Challenged,” he said.

“Your grandfather is Rufus Scrimgeour, correct?” the blue-robed wizard asked.

“Yeah. You know, I’m pretty lucky in that my family is pretty prestigious. I have a choice to live off their money if I want to, but that’s not want I want for myself. On the other hand, though life at school is pretty good…”

“Pretty good?” the blue-robed wizard asked skeptically.

“As good as school can be for any student,” Theo replied. “I have a lot of really great friends, I get respect and I earn good marks. I can only wish my life outside of school were as good, but the truth is pretty different for me. My family looks on me as an embarrassment, and they even don’t like me to be around when their friends come over because they don’t want to get teased for having a Squib son.”

“Well that’s all very nice, my dear,” the black-haired witch said with mock-sympathy, “but it sounds to me like you’re handling things alright. It sounds like you’re well-balanced.”

“No one ever gave me an opportunity to even think I could function in the wizarding world beyond sweeping floors,” Theo said harshly. “Being shut out of my family’s life over something that’s not my fault is pretty hard to take, and since no one has even remotely been able to suggest a career path for me, I’ve been forced to look to the muggle world for the respect I’m not getting here. Taking these old-fashioned laws off the books will be a big step in showing blokes like me that I’m more than just a burden or an embarrassment. And if someone would put into place a way of showing what June and I can contribute to our society, then people like me might not be so eager to get away from here.”

“We all know that there are many things that the Magically Challenged can contribute to the world,” I went on. “Frankly, the muggles are way ahead of us on that score. They recognise that everyone has some sort of talent or ability that can make a difference in the world, and so should we. Thus, I wish to propose that we set up a department for Human Development.” 

At that point, June produced a stack of booklets outlining our plan, which she passed out to the committee.

“As you can see,” I said, “this department is devised to investigate the conditions of the Magically Challenged, and to work with private industry to create new jobs and new career paths for everyone in our community. Rather than forcing existing careers to accommodate the Magically Challenged, which isn’t always feasible or desirable, the department would use innovation, technology and other means in order to ensure that every member of our society…”

But I stopped, aghast as the black-haired witch stand up in a huff.

“I am sick of you Chaucers thinking you can run the entire wizarding world,” she said with disgust. “I refuse to listen to this boy any more.”

“Now hang on, Portia,” Kingsley said. “This is merely a proposal…”

“And he is a Chaucer,” Portia retorted. “He’ll use his father’s influence once again to get exactly what he wants unless we stand against him. You might not mind being manipulated like this, Kingsley, but I for one, protest.”

To my horror, not only did she march out of the room, but so did four others. Now what?


	21. Rebuilding the Fortress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Five minutes passed, then ten, then twenty until finally, a harried and irritated Kingsley Shaklebolt returned to the conference room with three of the protesters—but no Portia. They all sat down, looking cross and impatient, but then Kingsley motioned for the hearing to continue._

Unbelievable! Unthinkable!

Just as I was finally getting somewhere concrete, disaster! How could she just walk out like that? Maybe I overdid it, came on too strong, too forceful. We Chaucers tend to do that, but on the other hand, I was just doing what Kingsley told me. He said be specific, and so I was. It wasn’t my fault that this Portia person couldn’t handle it!

“Just stay put,” Kingsley said. He rushed form the room, leaving all of us confused and devastated. The rest of the committee sat and stared at me, but said nothing.

Professor Longbottom leaned over and whispered in my ear. “He’ll get them back, George.”

“I hope so,” I replied, my heart heavy.

Five minutes passed, then ten, then twenty until finally, a harried and irritated Kingsley Shaklebolt returned to the conference room with three of the protesters—but no Portia. They all sat down, looking cross and impatient, but then Kingsley motioned for the hearing to continue.

“Forgive us, Mr. Weasley-Chaucer,” Kingsley said. “Please, let’s pick up from where you left off. I believe you were speaking about this Department for Human Development?”

“Is that all you have?” the witch in green asked.

“Not all, ma’am,” I replied. “I believe that for meaningful change to take place, we need to go about it in a carefully constructed way. It wouldn’t work to do things all at once because people need time to adjust to new changes.”

“Do you have a time frame?” she asked.

“I think the more extreme laws can be removed as soon as possible, that is, the poll tax, the laws about entrances to the Ministry, the marriage penalties and the Squib Residential Registry. Those laws are nothing more than sheer bigotry, and I think that we’ve been through too much as a society to allow that sort of thing to continue.”

The witch frowned. “I am not a bigot, Mr. Weasley-Chaucer,” she declared defencively.

“Then you agree? Bigotry doesn’t belong in our society?” I asked.

“I don’t see how a marriage tax for mixed couple qualified as bigotry,” she replied.

“Oh come on, Cecilia!” the wizard in blue snapped at her. “My brother married a Squib a few years back, and they still catch hell for it from everyone! And the fee just went up, and since they’ve got five kids, they’ve had to put off looking for a new house for a year!”

“Are the children Magically Challenged, Sid?” Kingsley asked.

“No. They’re fine,” Sid replied. Theo flinched at that answer. June glared at him for a quick moment, but Sid didn’t seem to notice. “My sister-in-law’s cousin’s a Squib, too, and she ended up going to Social Welfare because she couldn’t afford some of those extra fees they have to pay. My brother helped her out with the paperwork, but it was a sonofabitch to fill out.”

“And you know she wouldn’t be allowed to fill out those papers on her own, right?” I asked pointedly.

“Figures,” Sid grumbled.

“Taking these laws off the books would do wonders to tell people like your sister-in-law’s cousin that the Ministry really does care about her well-being and that they trust her to make independent decisions about her own life. Those laws are an insult and they were made people that likely had no idea what challenges that those without magic face in life. Those laws are based on ignorance, pure and simple, but now, we have a chance to change that and progress.”

Silence. Was that good? Bad? Indifferent? It was impossible to tell.

But then…

“So what about this department?” Sid asked, now a bit more curious. “Who would run it?”

“You?” the witch in green asked sourly.

“I’m only eighteen,” I replied. “I’m sure I wouldn’t exactly qualify for that sort of thing. But I think that someone who has a creative and entrepreneurial mind who can find ways of helping the Magically Challenged to integrate into the work force would be the best person to lead this department. But the staff should include a mixture of witches, wizards and the Magically Challenged.”

“We’ve never had Squibs work at the Ministry before,” Sid pointed out. “Well, other than as the janitorial staff.”

June looked mortified.

Sid went on, resting his hands on his round stomach. “But I think it’s worth considering. If we are to have a whole department to take care of these people, then they’re sort of the experts on their own situation, right?”

I suppressed a smirk.

“But that’s only two phases,” a young, really cute witch pointed out. “Isn’t there more?”

“Well the next phase is related to the second one,” I replied. “The department would create new areas of careers which means that the Magically Challenged would finally feel empowered to stand on their own in our society so that perhaps other restrictions against them could be lifted. For example, the housing restrictions could finally go away since they could finally prove themselves to be financially stable.”

More silence. A few heads nodded.

Kingsley looked over at June. “Would you like to add anything, Miss Jessup?” he asked her kindly.

“I still have a little way to go at Hogwarts,” she said, her voice trembling a little. “But it would mean a lot to me, to my brothers and to everyone else in our situation to know that upon leaving school we would find the same level of acceptance, trust and opportunity that we’re so used to. I have some older friends who have gone through a real culture shock after leaving Hogwarts because they suddenly went from a place of peace and happiness to a world of coldness and abandonment. We’re loved and included at school, but in the world, we’re hated and shunned. That’s why I want George’s plan to be adopted, because it’s good not only for me and my brothers and for Theo, but for the character and the…the integrity of our world.”

Someone sniffled.

“Thank you very much, all of you,” Kingsley said, now standing.

“Thank you for hearing us,” I replied. “I apologise if you thought I was just using my father to get ahead, because that’s not what I’m doing. This issue means a lot to me for a lot of big reasons, and I hope the Ministry will have the wisdom and compassion to take it into consideration and to act on it decisively.”

“Well you’ve given us a lot to think about,” Sid said, reaching across the table to shake our hands. 

“The next phase of this process is to discuss it within the committee and to draft a resolution for the Wizengamot,” Kingsley explained. “They will need to decide whether the existing laws are still useful or whether they can be struck down. And if they are struck down, then the body of department heads, the Minister for Magic and those secretaries and undersecretaries in his office will have the final say about your proposed department.”

My heart skipped a beat. “And if they accept it, then what?” I asked. “I mean, who will be responsible for setting up the department?”

“That will have to be determined later,” Kingsley replied. But he gave me a little wink which made me pretty nervous because I was pretty sure what that wink meant.

* * * * *

Mum and Dad, plus Grandma and Grandpa Weasley met us in the Atrium after the hearing ended. Mum looked overwhelmed with excitement and nerves, but Grandpa Weasley looked strangely calm.

“How was it?” Mum squeed, giving me a huge hug. Dad patted me on the back and Grandma Weasley gave me a big sloppy kiss on the cheek.

“It’s hard to say,” I replied. “Two people walked out in protest.”

“I heard about that,” Grandpa Weasley said rather sternly. “Portia’s father was sympathetic to Lord Voldemort at one time, so it’s no shock that she walked out on you.”

“She never liked me,” Dad admitted. “When I was in the Ministry that one year, Portia used to trash talk me all the time. Luckily your grandpa liked me,” he said to Theo.

Mum and Dad had us all to the house for an early dinner that evening—Dad and Professor Longbottom talked about the old days, which was kind of boring, so Theo and I amused ourselves by taking the mickey out of June. She took it pretty well, thankfully.

“How’s Tom?” Mum asked.

“All recovered,” I said. “He’s doing great!”

“Still with Jeremy?” she wondered. I detected…something in her voice.

“Happy as ever,” I told her.

She nodded, briefly frowning. Something was up, but I didn’t ask. It wasn’t the time for such questions.

“Anyway,” I said, working to change the subject fast, “I wonder how it’ll take for Kingsley to get back to me.”

Dad shrugged. “Knowing the Ministry, when they’re good and ready. But if you’ve got Kingsley on your side, maybe just a little faster.”

“That Sid guy seemed interested,” Theo noted.

“Sid was in my year,” Mum said. “Hufflepuff. Sweet kid. His family’s pretty unusual, very open-minded. His parents lived in a muggle commune in the 1960’s.”

I laughed. “Free love and all that?”

“Took too many muggle drugs, I think,” Mum replied. “Fortunately they came to their senses and returned to us.”

“I wonder why they left like that,” June mused.

“No idea,” Mum said. “Just out for a bit of adventure, I suppose.”

Dad stared at me for a moment, then took a drink from his wine glass. “Exams coming up, George,” he said. “Ready?”

“You mean for the three I get to sit?” I asked sourly. “Yeah, I’m on it, Dad. Don’t know what I’ll do with them, of course.”

“You’ll be a Ministry department head, you tosser,” Theo joked. “Just like your old man!”

“I don’t want to head a department!” I whined. Did I?

“You set it up, you bonehead,” Theo shot back. “It’s all your idea!”

“No, it was Nick’s idea! Maybe he should head it,” I retorted.

June grinned. “Wouldn’t that be something? An eighteen year-old Squib heading up a Ministry department?”

“I just might stay in our world if that happened,” Theo noted.

“No muggle computers then?” I asked. “No Amber?”

“What do you mean no Amber?” Theo protested with a laugh. “She’d like the wizarding world…well, if it would be a world that accepted everyone. Maybe I could be proud of our world if someone like Nick headed George’s department.”

The door opened, and the sound of Freddy’s voice rang through the house. “George! Hey, George!” He bounded into the room, jubilant, and threw his arms around me. “Hey, Sasha said you did great today!”

“He was brilliant,” June said.

“Bloody amazing,” Theo added.

“Hey, you both did great, too,” I pointed out. “In fact, I don’t know how it would have gone without you guys.”

Freddy accepted a glass of mead from Grandpa Weasley. “Thanks. A toast, then,” he said, raising his glass. “To George Weasley-Chaucer, the youngest Minister for Magic in wizarding history!”

We all laughed and drank to that. OK, I’ll admit it. The prospect of becoming Minister for Magic actually did appeal to me more than I was willing to admit to anyone in my family. Though many of my relatives work for the Ministry, they all have their misgivings about it, too, and perhaps with good reason. On the other hand, with the right leader at the helm, well, maybe things would be a little different. I don’t know why Dad never became Minister—he should have, long ago. So maybe if his son were to become Minister…

* * * * *

We returned to a throng of well-wishers later that evening. Paige literally jumped into my arms and kissed me wildly, and a lot of people clapped me on the back and shook my hand and cheered me on. But the Great Hall was also filled with some pretty angry people as well. They stood silent and stoic, but I knew they were not going to let this go.

And when the newspaper came out the next day with the hearing as it’s leading story, there was even more trouble. I will admit that I was fairly surprised at how the Daily Prophet covered the hearing—for once, they were almost neutral…almost. And they were extremely friendly towards Theo and June, which made me happy.

_**Chaucer Testifies before the Ministry:  
Will the Ministry of Magic adopt a new department?** _

_By Donald Bosco  
Staff Writer_

_Hogwarts Head Boy, George Weasley-Chaucer, son of St. Mungo’s Chief of Staff Nigel Weasley-Chaucer and his journalist wife, Ginevra, testified before an exploratory committee yesterday at the Ministry of Magic. Chaucer was accompanied by Theophilus Scrimgeous and June Jessup, both Magically Challenged students at Hogwarts and close friends of Chaucer…_

“Your name’s Theophilus?” Paige asked Theo, who blushed.

“Just read,” he groused.

“Why did they use your Mum’s full name?” Paige asked me.

“Read!” Theo ordered.

_…Miss Jessup garnered sympathy for the cause when she contrasted the world inside Hogwarts with that outside the historic school. According to her, Hogwarts is a haven of tolerance for people like herself, but outside the school, she is met with hatred and abuse. Many Magically Challenged individuals we interviewed in the wake of the hearings attested to Jessup’s attitude._

_“Oh yeah, it’s very true,” said Mrs. J. Downey, of Westbourne. “I was sent to an orphanage when my parents found out I had no magic.”_

_Mrs. Downey’s story was not unique. The Prophet learned that even the grandson of Rufus Scrimgeour, former Minister for Magic, has endured scorn from his own relatives. The former Minister was not available for comment…_

“Figures they’d pick on my grandpa,” Theo grumbled. “He’s actually pretty good about. It’s everyone else who’s got a problem with me!”

“They exaggerated it a little,” June noted. “But this is the first time I don’t object to it!”

“Sure!” Althea agreed. “It makes your side look even better!”

The only one not smiling at the story was Tom. I didn’t get it. He was ready to suffer grievous bodily harm for the cause, had endured a pretty bad thrashing for it already. So what was his problem? I wondered if he was mad that he didn’t get to go. I wanted him to go, but there just wasn’t a place for him. I just hoped he’d understand that eventually.

When Tom’s bad mood didn’t get any better later that day, I thought I’d better have some brother time with him, to see what was up. We decided to take a walk to the edge of the Forbidden Forest—I’d suggested the lake, but he didn’t like that idea. Frankly, I try to avoid getting anywhere near the Forbidden Forest, and not just because we’re not allowed in there unless we’re escorted by a teacher. The Forest had werewolves in there, plus other terrifying creatures that made me very nervous. What was Tom thinking?

We sat down on a log and stared up at the night sky, sprayed with white stars. The night air felt cool and clean and refreshing—I breathed it into myself, feeling its magic fill me up.

“So,” I finally said, breaking the long silence. “You’ve been in a pissy mood today.”

Tom nodded. He sniffled and rubbed an eye. “Yeah, I know. Sorry.”

“So what’s up?”

He paused. “I…uh…I broke up with Jeremy today. Last night actually.”

“Again? What happened?”

“It’s complicated, George,” he explained.

“You can tell me, you know,” I said, trying to be supportive.

“I know, man. It’s just…I don’t know if I can even explain it or even understand it myself. See, We haven’t…you know...”

“Had sex?”

“It’s just…” Tom winced. He rubbed his forehead vigourously. “See, there’s a line that…I’m not so sure I’m willing to cross.”

“Well you’re only sixteen, I mean, you’re just not ready,” I said. “You don’t have to jump into sex right away, Tom.”

“I know. But…” He sighed heavily. “I don’t know if I…see…there’s something that I’d lose if I went that way, crossed that line.”

“We’re all going to cross it if we’re involved with someone,” I said. “Whether it be in marriage or domestic partnership or whatever.”

“I know. It’s just, I don’t know if I want that for myself.”

I looked at him, puzzled. He suddenly looked so much like my uncle Bill just then for some reason. Maybe it was that his hair had grown out a bit. “Tom, did it ever occur to you that, well, maybe you’re not really gay?”

“I’m gay, George.”

“Maybe you’re bisexual, you know, like Althea’s Mum.”

“I’m gay, George. I’ve thought about this for a long time.” Tom leaned back a little, looking upward at Orion, twinkling above. “When I was twelve years old, we were all visiting the Malfoys. I remember that it was the first time I…see, Abraxas was getting out of the pool, and all of a sudden, I…couldn’t take my eyes off him.”

“Did you ever tell that to Abraxas?” I asked.

“No way!” Tom replied. “Plus, he’s got a girlfriend. I mean, I was never in love with him or anything. But it was the first time I was consciously attracted to another bloke. It scared the shit out of me.”

“Did you tell Dad?”

“Not for a long time. Not until I started seriously seeing Jeremy. I figured I’d have to come out, since Dad would have figured it out on his own.”

“Then if you’re sure you’re gay and you’re alright with that, then what’s keeping you from going all the way with someone you love?”

Tom chuckled. “That’s why it’s complicated. That’s what’s so hard for me to articulate to anyone. I understand it myself, but I don’t have words for it. I mean, don’t get me wrong! It’s not like I’m hormonally dormant or anything, I mean, I’m a regular guy and everything. Jeremy accused me of being brainwashed by Christianity.” He scowled.

“That’s a low blow,” I said. I really hate it when people bash Christians like that.

“I told him off, actually,” Tom admitted. “I mean, who does he think he is? He had no right to say that!”

“Dad did take us to church a lot,” I noted.

“And I’m glad he did!” Tom replied hotly. “But that doesn’t make me some unthinking bonehead or anything! I don’t know, George, I think I just need to figure it out, you know, figure out how to live my life and uphold my values without compromising my identity.”

“That’s a tough choice, Tom.”

“I know. But it’s what I need to do.” He sniffled again. “I’m not going to judge Jeremy, I mean, that wouldn’t be fair. He deserves to be with someone that will make him happy and give him what he needs, but that’s not me. And I can’t have all that pressure put on me. Not right now when I’m just getting used to being out.”

I put my arms around him and leaned my head against his. “You’re a great kid, Tommy. You’re hell on wheels, but you’re a great kid.”

Tom got me in a headlock and wrestled me off the log. Together we screeched and howled and rolled around on the ground, just like old times. After a few minutes of pretty intense wrestling, we tired out and returned to the castle, sore and ready for a good night’s sleep.

“Hey George,” Tom said. “Would you have a meltdown if I told you I wanted to be a Healer?”

A slight stab in the heart, though fleeting, tore through me. “Why would I have a meltdown?”

Tom laughed. “Are you kidding? You punched out Freddy when he told you he was going to be a Healer! Don’t tell me you forgot already!”

I hadn’t forgotten. I just tried to put all that ugliness behind me.

“Well I won’t punch you out, Tom. I promise. Plus, you could probably kick my arse anyway.”

Tom reached up a foot and kicked me in the backside. “I sure beat the hell out of you wrestling!”

“Not quite! I had you down pretty good, you gotta admit!”

“Yeah, right, George. Til I grabbed your hair and pinned your face to the dirt!”

“I let you do that!”

“Sure George. Sure.”


	22. The Wrath of Severus Snape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _We all sat at the Hufflepuff table playing wizard chess—today it was Jessup versus Jessup, with June beating out Aidan big time. She had just captured Aidan’s rook when we heard a loud “WHAT???” boom from the Staff table. Startled, the entire school looked with horror as an absolutely fuming purple-faced Headmaster Snape barked at all the teachers to get straight to his office. And then, he turned his wrath on us._
> 
> _“The Prefects and Heads will come to my office NOW!” he bellowed before storming off. Everyone burst into nervous whispers, wondering what the heck was going on. Althea looked terrified, as did Aidan. Professor Snape was cranky on a good day, but this level of venom was a rare thing._

Ellie, Malachi, Caldwell and Dorsett were all rotting away in Azkaban, awaiting their trials, but Hogwarts hadn’t forgotten about the vermin. A lot of students from Ravenclaw made badges saying, FREE THE RAVENCLAW FOUR! It was totally disgusting. I wanted to rip the badges off all of them, but Professor Snape wouldn’t allow it.

“Freedom of speech, Chaucer,” he sneered. “Perhaps you’ve heard of it?”

“But it’s causing problems!” I retorted, standing before his massive desk.

“Not for everyone,” he replied. “For you and your supporters, I suppose, but not for others. Remember, George, these are fellow students. This isn’t going to be an ordinary trial. No matter how much power you have over Ministry committees and Kingsley Shaklebolt, you have to allow for other people to have their say.”

“But they tortured me!” I snapped, forgetting decorum entirely. “Come on, Severus, you can’t seriously agree with those badges!”

“What have I told you about addressing me correctly AT SCHOOL?” he snarled. “You can’t seriously think I agree with those badges, George!”

“I…”

“If I had my way I’d rip every one of them off and burn them, then put the students into permanent detention!” he declared. “But I will not restrict speech like that! If the badges cause fights, that’s different, but so far, this is a peaceful protest. You’re just going to have to get used to the fact that some people don’t see things your way.”

I wanted to respond to him, really tell him off. Why did he always pretend that I’m some power-mad sod? But what was the point of arguing? It wouldn’t get me anywhere, so I just let him have the point.

“George,” he said, more softly this time, “you have to get used to this level of rhetoric, directed right at your heart. You have made incredible strides with your campaign, and if Kingsley does the right thing, you will continue to be attacked. You know this already!”

He was right. I knew.

“You’ve already been through torture, brutality, gossip, scandal,” Professor Snape went on. “A couple of badges are nothing! You need to let people have their say and let others do the arguing. It doesn’t have to be you all the time! A true leader knows when to delegate, and he knows how to face down bastards and whiners. Do you understand that?”

“Yeah.” I turned to go, but then I paused. “Sir, how am I doing? I mean, as Head Boy.”

He thought a moment. “Your approach is different from your father’s. You’re less aggressive, more lenient. But you listen to people, too. I’ve seen that. Some of the students might not like you, but they all respect you. You’ve proven that you’re not a pushover, which wasn’t so apparent earlier.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Tell my daughter to stop shagging her boyfriend in the Silver Room,” he said. “I’m not ready to be a grandfather.”

* * * * *

His attitude changed, however, a mere week later. We had gone from snowy February to a blustery March, and the pressure was on as the reality of NEWT’s neared. For Theo, Nick, Aidan and my other Seventh Year friends, this meant more study and less fooling around. People suddenly grew somber and serious, more emotional and less likely to cause too much trouble. The same held true for Tom and the other Fifth Years as they faced their upcoming OWL’s.

It was different for me. Since the second half of my fifth year, my courses at Hogwarts changed dramatically—once everyone realised I did possess magical abilities, my Squib level courses no longer pertained to me, but I was nowhere near ready for regular wizard level courses. And with my magic so poor at first, my future remained very uncertain, and I spent most of my sixth year in private lessons with Professor McGonagall.

On the brink of freedom from the drudgery of school, I lamented. Too many choices lay ahead, yet in terms of actual educational experience, I barely qualified for anything. Making potions? Never did that much. Charms? Well, I finally managed not to make it rain chickens any more, but I still had problems with control. OK, so I was good at Herbology, but I didn’t want to pursue that as a career. I’m not so good with plants, nor with magical creatures.

The temptation to pursue a career as a Healer still called out to me, but the excitement of a political career called out with equal force. And what could I bring to the Healing Arts anyway? Why did I even want to be a Healer, other that my father is a Healer? Maybe it was time to find my own identity, despite how much I look like him. Maybe because I look like him.

I sent an owl to Mr. McDowell, Dad’s lawyer friend. Just asking a few important questions. Exploring future possibilities.

Paige and I had come to a decision—we’d had one…well, we had one night of…intimate arts…but in truth, it was probably a bad idea. It wasn’t just that we both feared potentially being up the duff, but more that we didn’t want to lose a sort of loose, fun, free aspect of our relationship. You’d think that…relations…would draw a couple closer together, but for me and Paige, it created a obstacle to what we already had and loved.

And it made it a lot easier to study for exams, believe me. I think if we’d…gone there more than once, it would have really taken me over, and I just couldn’t do that. Too much going on, especially after the announcement…

We all sat at the Hufflepuff table playing wizard chess—today it was Jessup versus Jessup, with June beating out Aidan big time. She had just captured Aidan’s rook when we heard a loud “WHAT???” boom from the Staff table. Startled, the entire school looked with horror as an absolutely fuming purple-faced Headmaster Snape barked at all the teachers to get straight to his office. And then, he turned his wrath on us.

“The Prefects and Heads will come to my office NOW!” he bellowed before storming off. Everyone burst into nervous whispers, wondering what the heck was going on. Althea looked terrified, as did Aidan. Professor Snape was cranky on a good day, but this level of venom was a rare thing. I hoped against hope that this wasn’t about them. After all, as far as I knew, they hadn’t ceased their activities, despite her father’s objections.

Tom, Jane and I rushed from our seats, making our way silently and nervously to the Headmaster’s office, wondering what bile he might throw at us. What had made him so furious all of a sudden? What terrible news had he received that made him blow up like that? I hadn’t seen him like this in a very long time, making me worry all over again. Inside the office, we all gathered around to figure out what was going on—he shook with rage. I thought the whole office might blow apart from the force of his anger. Tom touched my arm for a moment, searching for stability.

“I’ve had a letter from the Board of Governors,” Professor Snape seethed. He held the crunched up parchment in his fist. “Apparently, without telling a damn fucking one of us, the Wizengamot decided to release Miss Gray and Mr. Zabini from Azkaban.”

I could feel my knees weaken a little, but I stood strong, though my heart pounded in my chest.

“Oh Severus no!” Professor Sinistra exclaimed.

“When?” Professor Longbottom asked.

I felt too sick to speak. A horrid sense of betrayal bubbled up inside me, pouring into my ears and my mouth.

“A week ago,” Professor Snape snarled. “They then approached the Hogwarts Board of Governors to appeal for readmission to the school and…”

“But how?” Tom cried out, forgetting decorum. “How did they get off?”

“By ratting out their fellow henchmen in order to get leniency,” he replied.

“They testified against them?” Professor Longbottom asked, bewildered.

“Yes, Neville, they threw them under the proverbial Knight Bus,” Professor Snape shot back.

“Sons of bitches,” Professor Lupin grumbled. “But Severus, what will this mean for the school? What will this mean for George?”

Everyone looked at me all of a sudden, with glances of pity, fear, grief. I felt cold, naked, totally vulnerable, as if the walls were closing in on me, shutting out light and air. I struggled to breathe as my whole body shook.

“There is to be no prejudice,” Professor Snape said quietly. “According to the Board, no punishments, no special conditions. No prejudice. As long as they behave themselves, they are not to be harassed or watched or restricted in any way different from the other students.”

Professor Sinistra put a protective arm around me and gave me a little squeeze. “Well I for one am not going to sit and let anything else happen to our Head Boy.”

“Aurora,” Professor Snape started.

“No, Severus! I won’t permit anything else to happen to him!”

“Aurora, you can’t…”

“Yes I can!” she replied fiercely. “I might not be able to follow Ellie and Malachi around, but I can keep an eye on George, and that’s what I will do!”

“As will I, Aurora,” Professor Lupin agreed.

“Me, too,” Professor Longbottom said.

“Me, too,” Jane added. I blushed.

I thought I might pass out just then as the room grew more and more unbearably stifling. As the pain and shock grew in me, blackening my heart once more, every single glass object in the office burst apart—it didn’t matter what everyone said, nor how supportive they were being and how protective they were. I appreciated it, loved them for their kindness, but all I could think was how unfair this was. I couldn’t help but feel totally disregarded, and especially the fact that no one even thought to tell me, to talk to me, to give me the smallest hint that this might happen.

I didn’t know what to do. What could be said?

Several of the professors had hurried to repair the broken glass as both Tom and Jane threw their arms around me—I stood there like stone, my mind so worked up that I couldn’t manage a single thought.

Professor Snape leaned against the edge of the desk and folded his arms. “Frankly, I’m not sure how to handle this situation. It is going to be up to all of us to keep the peace. As for you Ravenclaw Prefects, you must absolutely forbid any polemics, that is, any fighting words against George here or against Miss Gray and Mr. Zabini. We cannot allow this school to dissolve into factions again. Hogwarts has been free of house prejudice for a long time now, and I do not want to return to that. Is that clear?”

“Yes sir,” Jane said. She threw a fierce glare at the Ravenclaw Prefects, who all nodded obediently. But was that enough? Nothing was certain any more.

“According to the Board,” Professor Snape continued, “we are to treat them as if nothing ever happened, as if they never broke a law or viciously tortured another student or attempted to murder another person in their lives. We are to treat them as totally innocent, perfect students who would never dream of doing a single wrong thing ever in the entire course of their lives.”

Professor Lupin frowned. “Your sarcasm is noted, Severus,” he said, “but it leads directly to the core of our problem.”

“Yeah, no kidding, Lupin,” Professor Snape shot back. “For the Staff, this means that you may not use prejudice when you grade their work, nor even where you allow them to sit in class.”

“So if Miss Gray sits behind Mr. Chaucer during Philosophy?” Professor Longbottom asked, “no one can tell her to move?”

“No, but Mr. Chaucer is free to move. In fact,” Professor Snape said, “we might wish to exercise our prejudice against him, treat him as the one with the problem.”

“That’s not fair!” Tom protested.

“No, it’s actually quite fair,” Professor Snape replied coolly. In fact, he’d calmed down significantly by now, but I didn’t know what he meant at all. How could he say treating me with prejudice was fair? “I might not be able to tell Miss Gray or Mr. Zabini where to sit,” he explained, “but I can tell Mr. Chaucer. I can restrict him from going within twenty feet of either of them, and I don’t even have to give a reason.”

“True,” Professor Lupin admitted. “You can live with that sort of prejudice, George, right?”

I shrugged. “What about my rooms? What about my potion? What about the fact they don’t deserve to be here?”

“Our hands are tied, George,” Professor Snape replied. “We just have to make do for now.”

“And if they try something?” Tom asked.

“Then they are no longer innocent, are they? I can throw them in detention if they break a rule, Mr. Chaucer. They don’t have free reign over the school.”

Tom sighed. “This is a disaster,” he groaned. “Did they even tell our parents about this?”

“Oh my gods,” I breathed. My knees weakened again, and this time, I really did think I might pass out. Fortunately, Tom and Professor Sinistra caught me in time and guided me to a chair. “This is going to kill Dad!” I moaned. “How am I going to tell him?”

Professor Snape sat down next to me. “It’s time to get back to work,” he told everyone. “Miss Gray and Mr. Zabini will arrive Saturday morning. Fortunately it’s a Hogsmeade weekend, so no one will be around much when they get here, including the Head Boy and Girl. We do have time to prepare the students for this. The Heads of Houses will have House meetings on Thursday in order to give the news to the students and allow them to ready themselves for this change.” And then he turned to me. “And I will tell your parents, George.”

“You don’t have to, sir.”

He paused, waiting for everyone to leave the room, still discussing and grousing and worrying. I wanted to run off, disappear for good, never lay eyes on Ellie or Malachi again. My anger rose once more, but I controlled it this time. No broken glass.

“George, I don’t want you anywhere near your father when he finds out about this,” Professor Snape said. “You don’t quite know what he’s capable of, and I don’t want you to see him like that.”

“What do you mean? He won’t get violent or anything!”

“Before he and your mother married, your father had a muggle girlfriend, a Lucy Fairchild.”

“Did she break his heart?”

“No. She was murdered by dark wizards.”

“Oh my gods,” I murmured. I had no idea. “Dad never told me.”

“It was a very painful part of his life, so you’ll have to forgive him for not saying anything. When your father found out about her murder, his rage was so intense that he actually destroyed an entire forest with a mere movement of his hand.” 

“Wow.”

Professor Snape rubbed his eyes for a moment. “George, you have no idea what he went through watching you writhing in excruciating pain for days on end. I thought he might go mad for a while. I think in some ways he did go a bit mad. I haven’t seen him like that in a very long time, and to be honest, he scared the hell out of me. Your father is an emotional being, as you well know…”

I knew all too well about Dad’s emotional outbursts. Fortunately, most of them weren’t directed at me. Usually they were directed at the _Daily Prophet_ or at the Ministry or at Professor Snape.

“…and he can be downright frightening at times. I will go with Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy, Professor Lupin and his wife. Seriously, if you feel the ground shake in the next few hours, that’s your father.”

I had a feeling he was totally serious. After all, since when did Severus Snape ever joke around?

* * * * *

By the time I returned to the Great Hall, Tom, Paige, Theo and our other friends gathered around me, all chattering anxiously about the impending return of my torturers.

“This is such bullshit!” Theo spat. “Not even to tell you? No warning? What are they thinking?”

“They’re not,” Althea snarled. “Does your Dad know?”

I blanched. “Your father is telling him right now,” I replied. “Yours, too, Paige. He’s going to blow a gasket!”

“A what?” Althea asked, crinkling her nose.

“It’s a muggle term,” Theo said. “Your father’s not violent, is he, George?”

“No!” Tom exclaimed. “He’s passionate, but he’s not violent!”

The floor rumbled slightly under our feet. Was that an earthquake or a barrage of students…or my father? The floating candles shifted a little, as if blown side to side by a strong breeze, and I could swear I heard the windows rattle just a bit. Tom and I threw each other nervous glances. I actually felt afraid for a moment, afraid for Ellie.

What became clear to me was that, in a strong sense, I needed to take charge of the situation and make sure that all the peace my Dad had helped to build up wasn’t destroyed, especially in light of these new developments. As hard as that was for me, and as betrayed and stomped on as I felt, the atmosphere of peace was paramount, especially now. It wasn’t fair to the rest of the school to impose my private drama on them, and though my campaign had polarized many of the students, that didn’t mean that people couldn’t get along.

By Thursday night, I had to act. Everyone had heard about the return of Ellie and Malachi, and while some were elated, many more were furious. Not only that, but the two factions clashed sharply with each other, and by the middle of dinner that night, a major food fight was brewing. The tension amongst the varying factions had risen to such a level that if I didn’t step in and do something, they just might tear the place apart.

Professor Snape hadn’t yet returned from my parents, which made me worry all the more. Had Dad collapsed at the news? Did he respond with violence? Did he kill Ellie? Nothing was certain in London, but at Hogwarts, with Professor Sinistra’s permission, I decided to address the school to quell the high emotions.

Pointing my wand to my throat, I said, “Sonorus!” All the chattering and bickering and trash-talking came to an abrupt stop as I cleared my throat and prepared to speak. What I would say was a total mystery, but I felt compelled. I felt somewhat relieved knowing that Professors Sinistra and Lupin stood at my side, giving me some moral support.

“Look you guys, I have something to say to everyone,” I started. “As you all know, Saturday brings the return of Ellie Gray and Malachi Zabini, as you know, without prejudice. We are told to treat them with the same openness you have shown anyone else, and I want to support that.”

Someone booed me, but then I heard Jane screech at him to shut up.

“For some of you, you’re probably happy to see your friends again soon, and for some others, seeing them again will be pretty hard to take. I don’t know what side of the argument you’re on, and really, it doesn’t matter. But we’ve got a great school community here, despite recent controversies, and we’ve all worked hard to keep an atmosphere of peace and relative tolerance.”

“That’s why they shouldn’t be back here, you moron!” someone shouted. Again, Jane told her to shut up.

“We still have over three months of school to go,” I went on. “And we can’t let the presence of two individuals, no matter what they’ve done, interfere with our own lives. People like them gain power by taking our attention away from more important things, and so I want to encourage everyone to keep your focus not on controversy, but on your lessons and your friendships and of course, on Quidditch…”

“You’re getting what you deserve, Chaucer, you filthy Squib!” another person shouted. Now, five people told him to shut the hell up.

“And that’s fifty from Ravenclaw for that remark, Davies,” I replied. “I’m not telling you to ignore Ellie and Malachi or anything, and I’m not even asking you to forget what they did to me and to others. All I’m saying is that if we want a positive, connected community like we used to have, then we have to shun negativity and violence and pull together as real friends. If we can all do that, regardless of house or views about politics, then we can make it just fine.”

“I love you, George!” a girl called out. Everyone laughed.

I don’t know whether my little speech made any difference, but it made me feel a lot better. It made me feel a little more empowered, which I needed in light of this impending disaster. I needed to assure myself somehow that my voice mattered, that my presence wasn’t just a joke to be ignored, and that my efforts actually meant something to those other than myself and my immediate friends. If I could earn just a bit of respect from my peers, then I might just have the confidence I needed to take my next steps in life.


	23. The Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Look, Althea,” I warned, “just keep to yourself today. Stay in Slytherin or in the Library, please.”_
> 
> _“Why would I do anything else?” she asked lightly._
> 
> _I narrowed my eyes at her again. “You know damn well why. Just keep away from them both. You heard your father.”_
> 
> _“I’ll do what is necessary, George,” she replied._
> 
> _“That’s what I’m afraid of.”_
> 
> _We left Althea to her own devices, but as Paige and I walked hand in hand down the long path towards Hogsmeade, I couldn’t help but imagine the very worst trouble Althea could get herself into—she had hated Ellie for a long time, always threatened to beat the hell out of her if she could ever get her hands on her._

By the time I got out of bed after a second sleepless night in a row, my stomach ached and burned. I hadn’t been able to eat much, despite my well-intended speech, and no matter how much support Paige and Althea and Theo and the rest gave me, it didn’t seem to be enough. The reality and the total injustice of the return of Ellie and Malachi ate at me horribly, but I just had to suck it up like a man and take it.

Saturday came cruelly, obscenely, catching me raw and unawares. I struggled to get up, protested as I took my morning shower, found I had no appetite for anything at all. Yet I had to go. I had to be responsible. I had my Head Boy duties to perform—regardless of Ellie and Malachi’s impending arrival that very day, I really had no excuse to stay away from Hogsmeade, and in fact, as I thought about it while I threw on my robes and got my shoes on, I realised that I was far better off away from the castle that day. The longer away the better.

I tore through my breakfast that morning, as if I couldn’t eat fast enough. My friends watched me with lurid interest, but no one told me to slow down. I suppose the stress of the situation prevented them from making a joke out of it, though I wished they would joke about it at least a little. Nothing else could possibly be funny that terrible day, so why not laugh as I pounded down eggs and bangers and bacon and anything else I could get my hands on?

Only thinking of getting away, I dashed out, barely saying a word to anyone. Paige followed close behind, grabbing onto my hand and motioning for me to slow down.

“Hey! What’s the rush?” she said lightly. She knew.

“Sorry. Just a bit anxious today.” I blushed lightly.

She kissed me. That made me feel a little better…for a few minutes anyway. But I worried more than a little when Althea told us she was staying behind today.

“I’ve got work to catch up on,” she blithely told us, twirling a strand of black hair between her long fingers.

I narrowed my eyes at her. “You’re up to something, Thea.”

Althea raised her chin haughtily, just as her father so often did. “You have my answer.”

“Is Aidan going into town?” I asked.

“Ask him. I have no idea.”

“I thought you guys got back together,” Paige commented.

Althea shrugged diffidently. “And that’s your business, Paige?” she asked silkily.

“You’re my friend, bitch!” Paige declared. “Of course it’s my business!”

“Paige, we’re fine, alright,” Althea said. “Just let us be.”

“Look, Althea,” I warned, “just keep to yourself today. Stay in Slytherin or in the Library, please.”

“Why would I do anything else?” she asked lightly.

I narrowed my eyes at her again. “You know damn well why. Just keep away from them both. You heard your father.”

“I’ll do what is necessary, George,” she replied.

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

We left Althea to her own devices, but as Paige and I walked hand in hand down the long path towards Hogsmeade, I couldn’t help but imagine the very worst trouble Althea could get herself into—she had hated Ellie for a long time, always threatened to beat the hell out of her if she could ever get her hands on her. I shouted at a couple of Hufflepuff Third Years along the path to stop chucking stones at each other.

“Sorry, sir!” they called, running off towards Hogsmeade.

Nick, Aidan, Theo and Jane caught up with us, a little out of breath.

“Hey!” Theo called, panting hard. “Slow up, you guys!”

“You guys got a head start!” Jane said, hanging onto Nick’s hand. He put his arm around her shoulders as we all walked together now.

“So what should we do today in town?” Theo asked. “I’d buy a flying skateboard if I were allowed.”

“I need to go to Scrivenshaft’s today,” Paige said. “I need a new eagle quill and some colour-changing ink.”

“I need some grammar-correcting ink,” Nick said.

“We’re going for tea today,” Jane said, kissing Nick on the cheek.

I laughed. “Oh, so you’ll both be back late?”

Nick scooped up Jane and swirled her around—Jane squealed with delight as her hair flew behind her. I suddenly noticed that she no longer wore those tight braids. Paige poked me in the back and laughed.

Hogsmeade looked stunningly beautiful that day—the snow mostly melted away, all the grasses and trees were green and lush and luxurious. Everyone seemed in a good mood that day, calm and sweet and open. I was ready for a restful day, knowing that I faced new terrors upon my return to Hogwarts. Theo, Paige, Aidan and I headed first for Honeydukes, where I bought Paige a bag of Chocoballs and Dad some Sugar Quills. Then we headed to Gladrags to check out the new fashions before we finally decided to take a break at the Three Broomsticks for a butterbeer and a pile of chips.

The last person I expected to see in the crowded pub was my father, sitting casually with Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Potter and Professor Lupin, making their way through a bottle of Old Ogden’s firewhiskey. I hadn’t seen Mr. Potter in a little while—like always, he looked eternally young, his hair slightly messy, and still bearing that famous scar on his forehead, though Dad insists it used to be a lot bigger. Mr. Malfoy looked like he’d just come from the beach or the tanning salon, wearing slick, stylish sunglasses and the very latest trend in men’s robes. You could always count on him to be _uber_ -chic.

Dad looked deceptively calm, and I wondered exactly what he was up to. This couldn’t be just an ordinary visit, nor could it be a coincidence. He had to know that Ellie and Malachi were returning to school today—why else would he be here with his closest friends? And knowing Mr. Malfoy’s penchant for causing trouble, I worried that they might actually do something we’d all regret.

“Dad!” I exclaimed, looking more spooked than I should have.

Dad jumped up to give me a quick embrace.

“What are you all doing here?” I asked. Paige rushed to give Mr. Malfoy a huge hug.

“How’s my little angel?” Mr. Malfoy asked. He gave her a big kiss on the cheek.

“Staying on the straight and narrow, Daddy,” Paige reported, sounding disgustingly sappy just then.

Mr. Malfoy smirked. “Well that’s too bad. I was hoping you’d at least be up the duff or something.”

Mr. Potter laughed, but Dad looked mortified.

“Draco, shut up,” Dad muttered. “And why would she have any reason for being up the proverbial duff anyway?”

“Geez, Chaucer!” Mr. Malfoy crowed. “You’re such a bloody prig sometimes!”

I moved to say “see you later,” but when Dad motioned for us to join them, we were more or less forced to sit. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I don’t like spending time with my Dad or anything. He’s my absolute favourite person in the world! But I sensed trouble and frankly, I didn’t want to be anywhere near it. Like a good son, however, like a prat, I sat. I stayed. Mr. Malfoy pushed a glass of firewhiskey in front of me, but Dad snatched it up.

“He’s on duty today, right, son?”

I nodded, instead taking a butterbeer offered by Mr. Potter.

“Thanks, sir,” I said, taking a swig.

“So is my daughter’s purity intact?” Mr. Malfoy asked sharply.

Both Paige and I turned white. My mouth ran dry, and when Dad scowled at me, I desperately tried to shut my mind—but being no Occlumens, I was sure he’d seen my sudden, very pleasurable, very inappropriate memory of our single encounter.

“Daddy!” Paige protested. “Do you ask Abraxas if Aurora’s purity is intact?”

“I know it’s not,” Mr. Malfoy shot back. “She’s pregnant.”

I spit out a mouthful of butterbeer. “What? Does Severus know?”

Mr. Malfoy rolled his eyes with disgust. “They told us two days ago.”

“Wow,” I said.

“And then Abraxas threatened to marry her! Can you imagine? Where did I go wrong, Potter?”

“That’s what you did when you knocked up Pansy,” Dad reminded him.

“Don’t remind me,” he replied. “The only two good things that came out of that relationship were you and Abraxas,” he said to Paige.

“But Aurora’s great,” Paige said, stroking her father’s arm. “Althea and I will be sisters-in-law!”

“Where is your sister-in-law anyway?” Mr. Malfoy asked.

“Allegedly doing homework,” I said sourly.

Dad reached into his robes and produced a parchment. “I confess, George,” he said. “I do have a purpose for being here. It’s to give you this. He was going to owl it to you, but I thought maybe it was the kind of news you’d want to hear in person.”

“Is it from Kingsley?” I asked, excited. I tore the parchment from my father’s hand.

“It’s from Tom McDowell, actually,” Dad replied. “Apparently you made his day, George. You made his whole bloody year.”

“He wants to employ me?”

Mr. Potter laughed. “Come on, George, don’t leave us all in suspense! Read us the letter!”

I opened the letter and scanned it over, each line better than the previous.

“Come on, Minister,” Mr. Malfoy said, feigning annoyance. “Read us some letter.”

_Dear George,_

_I hope this letter finds you well. The news about what you have endured this year has been very worrisome for me, so to hear that you have recovered and are once again healthy and confident gives me great relief. I have been keeping track of your policy campaign in the newspapers and from your father, and I am very excited about what you are doing for the Magically Challenged. It shows a strong sense of commitment to our community and a tremendous leadership that will carry you far in our world in future…_

“Geez, he can really lay it on thick,” Mr. Malfoy said, sniggering.

“Shut up, Malfoy,” Mr. Potter snapped.

“Daddy!” Paige hissed.

I went on…

_…I was honored and flattered by your desire to learn the law and to work with my firm. We currently employ six partners and seventeen associates. We cover criminal defence, family law, litigation and business law, and we are currently looking to start a public policy division that will focus on civil rights violations and on advocacy of vulnerable groups within our community. Considering your current experience with this area of law, and considering your natural leadership, resourcefulness and dedication, I am ready to offer you a position as an associate with our law firm._

_I look forward to hearing from you very soon._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Tom McDowell_

“Oh my gods!” I exclaimed. “I got a job!”

“You got a career, George,” Dad pointed out. “A future.”

“Dad, did you know?”

“Not exactly, though when I saw him the other day, he was speaking very highly of you. Congratulations, son.”

I opened my mouth to reply, but the look of shock and fury on Paige’s face stopped me. I hadn’t heard the bell over the door tinkle, and since my back was to the door, I didn’t see who came in, but when I saw Paige, her father and Mr. Potter collectively glower, I knew. And then…

“ELLIE!” Some girl right behind me squeed at the top of her lungs.

My reaction was instantaneous, as was Dad’s. The two of us jumped to our feet, whipping around to face her down, together. My blood boiled as I looked at her, gleefully hugging her friend and chattering on about how she was, how much of a pain in the arse it was to move back in, how she was famished and Malachi lost his shaving cream and so on. All I could do was stand there like a statue and stare disbelievingly at her, trembling with fury.

And then she stopped talking—her face turned stark white as she laid eyes on me, and like me, she stood there and just stared.

Her friend, a Fourth Year Gryffindor girl, pulled at her sleeve. “Come on, Ells,” she said. “Let’s sit over there.”

Ellie turned to follow her friend, but just then, Dad spoke up. “Stay safe,” he muttered, almost growling. I shuddered at the thought he might actually do something terrible to her.

She stopped, turning to face him. “I’m sorry, Mr. Chaucer, what did you say?”

Dad glared at her. “You heard me, Miss Gray. Stay safe.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked, totally indignant. Actually, I didn’t exactly blame her.

“Nigel,” Mr. Malfoy said, now at Dad’s side. He touched Dad’s arm, but Dad flinched away.

“Nigel!” Professor Lupin snapped. “I’ll see you in class, Miss Gray,” he said to Ellie, motioning for her to go with her friend.

Madame Rosmerta rushed over, not to us, but to the little corner by the window where Ellie was just sitting down with her girlfriends. She pointed at the door.

“We’re closed, ladies,” she said.

“Closed?” Ellie’s friend snipped. “The place is full! You’re not closed!”

“We are closed,” Madame Rosmerta repeated. “I’m afraid you’ll need to leave.”

“But I want a butterbeer,” Ellie insisted.

“We’re out of butterbeer,” Madame Rosmerta told her.

“But that waitress is just serving some to those boys over there!” Ellie’s friend pointed out.

“I’m sorry, but we’re out.”

“Then I’ll have a glass of pumpkin juice,” Ellie said.

“We’re out. We’re out of everything, unfortunately. Sorry, but you ladies will have to take your business elsewhere.” Madame Rosmerta pointed at the door again.

Ellie held her head high as she stood up. “Fine. Bitch. We’ll go.”

As they left in a collective huff, the entire pub burst into loud, wild applause. 

“I really hate that bitch,” Paige noted. “I hope the next three months are sheer misery for her. That’s what she deserves.”

“So much for no prejudice,” I groaned.

“That only applies to the teachers and the Prefects, not to regular people,” Theo said.

“That’s not exactly true, Mr. Scrimgeour,” Professor Lupin replied. “The best revenge is silence. Stay away from them, give them no recognition, no credence, no attention whatsoever. That alone will alienate them and throw them into a cruel isolation.”

“It’s not enough,” Theo replied. “With all due respect, sir.”

* * * * *

Unfortunately, it would have to do. In a way, Professor Lupin was right, though I reveled at the thought of joining Dad and Mr. Malfoy in giving Ellie and Malachi a good thrashing and a few rounds of the Cruciatus Curse. It startled me to think that I would actually enjoy such levels of violence—maybe it’s a male thing, that deep desire to kick the living shit out of someone who’s wronged you. But maybe it’s just human. I suppose any one of us is a potential dark wizard.

But I had a job to do, and since Jane was off with Nick doing who knew what, it was up to me and the Prefects to make sure that everyone was properly shepherded back towards the castle when the time came. I said good-bye to Dad and his friends, and with Paige and Theo, ambled back up the long road towards the school. In time, we were joined by Tom and a new friend, a Sixth Year boy called Xander Belby—Xander’s cousin used to work with Dad in the Incurables ward, that is until he was horribly murdered by a muggle years ago. Dad doesn’t talk about that much. Anyway, Xander was tall and muscular and very handsome—his hair was light blond, wavy and thick, and his face was tanned. I could see why my brother might like Xander. I just hoped Xander was a nice guy.

Back in Slytherin House, I called a quick meeting with all the Slytherin Prefects, reminding them to keep everyone in line and not to lash out against Malachi and Ellie, nor at any Ravenclaws at all. I was determined to have peace, and I knew that if Slytherin led the way, things would get back to normal more quickly.

But Althea.

Althea Snape is one of my very dearest friends, and frankly, if we weren’t distantly related, I could totally see us together. That being said, I was terrified that she might not be able to restrain herself—Ellie tends to bring out the very worst in Althea—and that night as we all headed down to the Great Hall for dinner, I could tell that she was pretty riled up and looking for trouble. I hoped that her father might be able to intervene and prevent her from acting out. Then again, her father is a recovering Death Eater who is as sly and slippery as the next person. Knowing Severus, I could see him letting her get away with something and then giving her a minimal punishment.

Darn Snapes. Of course, it was his school, well, that is, he was the one ultimately in charge of things, and if he was going to let things slide, then who was I to stop him? But I didn’t want things to come to that. I wanted all of us to get along and for all this drama to come to an end. I wanted to be able to sleep at night and not worry about someone sneaking in to torture me again. I didn’t want to walk around forcing myself to repress feelings of extreme violence. I wanted everything to be as it was before I was poisoned.

I wanted Ellie and Malachi to go away. As long as they were back, even though I had determined to stay far away from them, the tension would remain. Another injustice.

I made a choice to enter the Great Hall last so I could see where Ellie and Malachi were—that way I could sit on the opposite side of the room and eat in peace. Tonight, they were easy to spot. They sat together at a far corner of the Ravenclaw table, sitting with just a handful of friends. Right next to them was a huge gap—no one wanted to be anywhere near them. That made me feel good. I found a spot at the Slytherin table at the other end of the room, joining Jane, Nick, little Dursley, Tom and Xander. I looked all over for Althea, but couldn’t see her at all.

“Where’s Thea?” I asked.

Jane shrugged. “Probably sabotaging Ellie’s bed.” She and Nick laughed. Since when did Jane ever laugh at a prank? Was this for real?

“We suggested talc,” Tom said. “It’s a bitch to get out. Even Scourgify won’t get it all!” They all laughed, and when I scowled, Tom cuffed me on the arm.

“This is bullshit,” I mumbled. “This has got to end.”

“It’ll end when those two sons of bitches get their stuff and leave,” Tom said viciously.

“So nothing I said remotely resonated with you?” I asked. “All that I said about setting aside controversy means nothing?”

“George, this is a travesty!” Tom retorted. “You can’t just put it aside and say ‘no big deal’!”

“I’m not!” I shot back. “Are you kidding, Tom? It is a big deal! I’m fucking pissed off at this whole thing! But our hands are tied by the stupid Board of Governors, and I’m not going to let those two bastards ruin my last few weeks here at school! That is one power I refuse to give to them!”

Tom fell silent. “George, this is killing me,” he confessed quietly. After everything you’ve done for people and this is how the school treats you? It’s not right! You deserve better!”

Before he could go on, Althea finally joined us at the table, accompanied by Paige and Lydia.

“So where have you girls been?” I asked as they sat down and served themselves some shepherd’s pie.

Althea giggled. “Not doing what you think we’re doing.”

“Why does that make me nervous?” I asked.

“The rotation of the earth makes you nervous, cousin,” Althea replied coolly. Paige laughed. “Seriously, George, we didn’t do anything. Just girl stuff. Nothing you’d ever want to know. Trust me.”

“Since when do you trust a Snape?” I asked wryly.

“Ha ha,” Althea said. She stuck out her tongue at me playfully. Paige poked me with her fork.

“Actually, guys,” Paige confessed, “we decided to take the high road, just like George suggested the other day.”

“That’s too bad,” Tom grumbled.

Paige grinned. “Besides, there are a lot of people who don’t want those skanks around anyway. Just make me one promise, baby,” she said to me. “When someone gets into trouble, go easy on the detentions. We don’t want anyone getting the idea that it’s a bad idea to mess with lowlives.”

“You guys are impossible,” I muttered. I lost my appetite.


	24. George's Close Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _By the end of her first month back to school, the majority of the school had followed my advice and simply ignored Ellie and Malachi, more or less shunning them, making them feel completely rejected and invisible. Few talked to them, and even Althea left them mostly alone. I was really proud of her actually, considering she was still furious with them over those pictures. Yet as far as I know, Althea turned her attention elsewhere, such as to Aidan._
> 
> _So why Ellie called me before the Headmaster was a mystery to me._

Three weeks. That’s how long I lasted. Three hideous, wrenching, painful weeks in which I said nothing to Ellie or Malachi, did nothing but avoid them, and felt obligated against my will to militate against anyone who hexed them. I did keep Paige’s request in mind, however, and went pretty light on most offenders. No one could accuse me of being a slacker.

Late in April, fortunately, I got a bit of news that gave me a very pleasant bit of distraction from my new troubles. It started as an anxious owl from Sasha Shaklebolt, warning me that I just might be receiving an important visit from someone at the Ministry very soon. Then, just a day later, I was summoned to Professor Snape’s office in the middle of dinner, without explanation. My heart leapt for joy at the sight of a smiling Kingsley Shaklebolt and Sid…I never did get his last name. Anyway, they both looked pretty chuffed to see me.

“How are you?” Kingsley asked, shaking my hand.

“Not bad. Okay,” I replied.

“You look all recovered.”

“Yeah. Mostly.”

“We heard about the two Ravenclaws being back,” Kingsley added. “Several parents have launched appeals to the Board of Governors protesting this.”

“And?”

Kingsley grunted. “Nothing yet. I hope my news will cheer you up, George. Sid, would you like to tell him?”

We all sat, though I was so worked up that it was really hard for me to keep still.

“We took the proposal to a larger committee at the Ministry,” Sid began, “and though there was some debate, most of it was over logistics. One thing that became clear was that the majority understood that this is a time to change attitudes and so, they voted in favour of your proposal.”

My jaw dropped. This was totally unexpected. “Are…are you serious? The whole proposal?” Unbelievable!

“The whole thing. You got absolutely everything you wanted, George,” Kingsley said proudly. “You got the department, the laws are coming off the books, and there is an open invitation for Theo, Nick and Aidan to take positions in the new Department of Human Development.”

“I don’t get it!” I exclaimed. “I mean, why? Why no fight?”

Kingsley shrugged. “Let’s just say that I was able to make them see the light of truth a bit more clearly than perhaps some of them were initially prepared for.”

I furrowed my brow at that. I hoped that he hadn’t done something he shouldn’t have in order to get this thing passed. “Uh, you didn’t…”

“Of course not!” Kingsley replied, feigning offence. “I simply reminded them that nearly every family in our world has a Magically Challenged member, and if they had the least regard for family loyalty they would not hesitate to vote our way.” Sid chuckled.

What could I do but burst out in laughter and joyful tears? This was…HUGE! “So they really voted for everything? Everything?”

Kingsley and Sid both laughed, too. “Yes, George,” Sid said, “everything. You got through to them loud and clear, you gave a great argument and you won. I didn’t twist anyone’s arms. Honest.”

My heart pounded in my ears. “I’m…I’m just in shock!” I exclaimed. “This is so exciting!”

“There is one thing, though,” Kingsley said.

Uh oh.

“While the Ministry feels that you are too inexperienced to lead a department like this,” Kingsley said, “they insist that you take the position as Undersecretary. That will give you about four or five years to train, to make connections, and to develop techniques so that you can take over the entire department after I retire.”

“So wait, so you’re heading the department?” I asked.

Kingsley sat back and fiddled with the lapels of his robes. “Well, you know me, George. After I retired from being Minister for Magic due to illness, I never really wanted to stop working. I’ve kept my hand in Ministry affairs ever since my recovery, and I think I’ve got about four or five more good years in me. By then, Sasha will be having your brother’s children and I’ll be ready to play Grandpapa. And you’ll be groomed to become the youngest Minister for Magic in wizarding history.”

But what about Tom McDowell and his offer?

“To be honest, Kingsley,” I said, “I really need to think about this. When I came up with the idea of the department I never dreamed of running it.”

“You are interested, though, right?” Sid asked. “It’s just about the best entry into the Ministry you can make as Undersecretary.”

The man had a point, but…

Kingsley laughed. “Already have a job offer?”

“From Dad’s friend, Tom McDowell. He wants me to train in law and work for him for a few years.”

He nodded. “Well maybe the three of us can sit down together and work something out.”

* * * * *

What to do?

The thought plagued me for days. I wondered how Kingsley, Mr. McDowell and I could somehow strike a balance so that I could do both things—of course, the two jobs were definitely related to each other, both focusing on public policy and civil rights. Both demanded that I make connections in the community and at the Ministry, and both meant that I would need to learn the law. Maybe there was a way.

One thing that delighted me was to hear that Caldwell’s uncle had not only been fired from the Department of Mysteries, but was now serving time in Azkaban awaiting trial for making that torture potion. He got his punishment, as did Dorsett and Albert Caldwell, but not Ellie and Malachi. It wasn’t just about the potion, either. What about those dirty pictures? What about scarring my reputation and Althea’s? What about their total lack of remorse for that? What about the fact that they went to all the trouble of falsifying those pictures, as if it were no big deal?

And then, Ellie had the nerve to complain! I was nearly speechless with shock and rage.

By the end of her first month back to school, the majority of the school had followed my advice and simply ignored her and Malachi, more or less shunning them, making them feel completely rejected and invisible. Few talked to them, and even Althea left them mostly alone. I was really proud of her actually, considering she was still furious with them over those pictures. Yet as far as I know, Althea turned her attention elsewhere, such as to Aidan.

So why Ellie called me before the Headmaster was a mystery to me. I was just in the middle of writing to Dad, in fact, when little Dursley approached me in the Great Hall with a small parchment, containing the summons.

“For you, sir,” he said, his voice shaking a little.

All the way to the Headmaster’s office, I puzzled and wondered what was up—what had I done? Was it something about Dad? Was there something else? Was I slacking off? Was Jane mad at me again? I had no idea, so when I saw Ellie standing in his office looking so forlorn and so forsaken, wringing a little lace hanky like a damsel in distress, my blood boiled. Professor Snape motioned for me to sit. I remained standing.

“There is a complaint,” Professor Snape said smoothly, with no trace of emotion. “Against you, Mr. Weasley-Chaucer.”

I looked at her, then at him, then at her again, totally taken aback by the suggestion. “I…I don’t understand, sir,” I said. “Have I done something?”

He shrugged diffidently. “Other than your job as Head Boy? You’ll have to ask Miss Gray, however, I believe she used the word ‘harassment’ in her invective against you.”

“Harassment?” I bellowed. “Based on what?”

“You have told every single student at this school to be mean to me!” she snapped. Her face turned an angry shade of purple, and for a minute, I thought her head might explode. But this couldn’t be for real, I mean, was she kidding? Was this another stupid prank?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” I shot back. “So far as I know, no one has been mean to you! In fact, I specifically told everyone to leave you in peace! Ask anyone at this school! They all heard me!”

“That is crap, George! I know exactly what you’ve been up to! I don’t care what stupid speech you pretended to give! You’ve been out for me since the very second I returned! Why else would you make sure your important and perfect Daddy was around to fight your battles for you? Explain that, George!”

“I have no idea what you mean!” I replied, totally exasperated. I looked to Professor Snape for help, but all he did was shrug.

“Miss Gray, do you have any concrete proof that our Head Boy is directly responsible for what you claim as harassment? That is, beyond mere conjecture and suspicion?” he asked superciliously.

Silence.

“Because if you do, I will be more than happy to launch a full inquiry into the matter and to make sure that Mr. Weasley-Chaucer is roundly punished.”

What was this? He was ready to throw me over? What was he playing at?

“I…” she stumbled. “Well I don’t have concrete proof, but I don’t think I need any. We all know how vindictive George is. And his father is crazy.”

Professor Snape raised his eyebrows in shock…or was it fake shock? “Vindictive? Really?” he asked, trying not to laugh. “You are not serious, are you, Miss Gray? I’ll grant you that Nigel can fly off the handle at times, but to suggest that Mr. Weasley-Chaucer is vindictive is pure tosh.”

Ellie pointed an accusing finger at him. “You’re no help, Headmaster! You’re related to both of them!”

“And what does that have to do with justice?” I shouted at her.

“That will do, Mr. Weasley-Chaucer,” Professor Snape hissed at me. “Miss Gray, thanks to you and your associates, we have learned very well that in order to make a charge against another student at this school, one must have concrete, incontrovertible fact, and without that, I’m sorry to say that there is not a thing I can do for you.”

“So you don’t care that people are treating me like a pariah?” she demanded.

“To my knowledge, there is no rule about treating someone like a pariah,” he replied. “However, if someone should falsify pornographic pictures of you and Mr. Zabini, or beat you senseless in the dark, then please do not hesitate to inform me.”

I suppressed a smirk, but Ellie raged. Her features turned ice cold. “Fine,” she said firmly, primly. She turned on her heel and stormed out, leaving me bewildered and slightly shaken.

“I don’t get it,” I said to Professor Snape. “What is with her?”

“Isolation,” he replied, sitting casually behind the massive oak desk. “She’s feeling the sting of being ignored and invisible. Thus she perceives it as harassment, though none have physically touched her…including Althea.”

“You’ve got it hand it to her, sir. I would have thought she’d smacked Ellie down by now.”

Professor Snape chuckled at that. “True. But don’t count her out just yet. I think my daughter has one good punch in her still, though I’ll have to insist that she reserves it for the train.”

“But you don’t want her getting in trouble like that, do you?”

“Althea and I struck a deal.”

I raised a curious eyebrow. “What sort of deal?”

“That is between myself and my daughter. And now, Mr. Weasley-Chaucer, get out. I have work to finish.”

Never one to be subtle, my cousin.

That night at dinner, however, no matter what I did or where I moved around the Great Hall, I couldn’t get myself far enough away from Ellie or Malachi, as if they were both trying to bait me into doing or saying something bad. When I moved to the Hufflepuff table to say hi to June and a couple of her girlfriends, Ellie and Malachi found an empty spot right behind us. So I said good-bye to June and moved over to the Gryffindor table, sitting with a few of Paige’s housemates, just to be sociable. Ellie and Malachi hovered nearby, chatting with Ellie’s Gryffindor friend a few seats over.

On to the Slytherin table to check in with little Dursley and his Second Year pals, then farther down the table to say hello to Tom and Xander. I got five full minutes with them before Ellie and Malachi got too close. It was like I was being chased or something! Totally ridiculous! I was determined to make this stop, but how to do that without giving her a chance to accuse me of something was another thing altogether. I could simply approach her in front of everyone and call her out, but she could turn that against me and accuse me of baiting her. Bad idea.

Finally, I just left, too frustrated and irritated. I took off towards the Library, thinking I could probably do a bit of research on law or on public policy or something, anything to take my mind off of how angry I was becoming at Ellie. How dare she? After all the pain and torment she caused me this year, she has the nerve to accuse me of harassment? Was she mad? Who did she think she was?

I fumed for a while as I browsed the library shelves, seeing all sorts of good things but not really seeing. It was impossible to concentrate in that agitated state, and the more I thought about it, the more pain I felt. And then, just as I had reached the very apex of my fury, I felt her behind me, just standing there. I whipped around to face her, then stormed off without a word. She followed me, out of the Library and halfway down the crowded corridor. I weaved through the crowd, but then, to my dismay, Jeremy Spinnett waved me over. I wanted to ignore him and move on, but the Head Boy part of me knew I had to stop, especially since he was looking a bit downcast.

“What’s up, man?” I asked, sidling over to him.

“Just stressed, you know? Exams and all.”

“Sure. That’s me, too.”

“What, you mean you’re stressed about the two exams you’re allowed to take, moron?” Ellie sneered behind me. “Maybe the faggot can help you out.”

I tried to ignore her. I really did. I took Jeremy by the arm and motioned for us to get out of there. “Let’s go to the Great Hall, get something to drink.”

“Yeah, like a tall, cold glass of pumpkin juice!” Ellie laughed.

Jeremy moved to whip out his wand, but I grabbed his arm to stop him. “Hey, don’t!” I ordered him. “Just move on.”

“That’s right, George, always standing up for the deviants and defectives of the world,” she said.

That was it. I was done with the bitch.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Ellie?” I demanded. “You ought to be grateful that you’re even back here at all! You don’t deserve to be here at all!”

She narrowed her eyes at me. “You’re the one who doesn’t deserve anything! You’re a psychologically unstable freak who only got anywhere because of who you know! It’s too bad that potion didn’t complete the job.”

Before anyone could stop me, I ripped out my wand and pointed it directly at Ellie’s heart. My whole body shook and my head felt incredibly dizzy and light. But she’d gone way too far, and I was in no shape to let her go any farther. Someone screamed.

“George!” Jeremy shouted at me. 

Another girl screamed and the crowd collectively gasped in horror, fearing the very worst. I feared the very worst, too, but I found I couldn’t stop myself. My throat tightened as all the anger and humiliation and grief now poured out of me uncontrollably.

“You think I’m some sort of defective? Is that what you think? You think I can’t take care of business myself, that I need better wizards to fight for me?”

“You need an Unforgiveable to make you shut the hell up,” she sneered, ignoring my wand.

I shot a glance at the windows nearby, causing them to explode into small shards, and with a wave of my hand, I made the shards vanish. Ellie turned white, and when I blew a massive hole in the stone wall to the right, she recoiled in new, profound fear. I know I should have stopped, but I was on a roll. With another wave of the hand, a thick flock of bats flew in the open window, screeching horribly, and when I waved my hand again, they vanished. Ellie’s eyes filled with tears, but I didn’t care. In my fury, I was glad about it.

“You have no idea what I can do to you, Ellie,” I raged threateningly. “With only the mere thought I can pound you back to the bloody Stone Age!”

“George!” Jane pleaded at the top of her loud voice. She had a look of sheer terror on her pale face.

It suddenly occurred to me that we were no longer alone in that corridor—did the entire school population hear that the smackdown of the century was just about to take place outside the Library? Was it just a sick coincidence that everyone was just suddenly there, gaping at the ugly scene like depraved Romans?

I inched towards Ellie, my wand still pointed at her in my shaking hand. “I could kill you if I wanted to,” I hissed at her. “I could think about you dead, and just like that, you would be.” I snapped my fingers, just for the effect—it made Ellie jump about foot in the air. Jeremy jumped, too.

“George! No!” a recently arrived Althea screeched. She rushed to me but didn’t touch me.

“That’s right, come to his defence, you stupid cow,” Ellie snapped at her. Apparently she got her nerve back.

“Shut up, bitch,” Althea shot back, but then turned back to me and begged. “George, please, don’t!”

It would have been so easy, and so quick. She wouldn’t even feel pain, unlike what she’d done to me. But…

In the eternity of a second, I thought and prayed and panicked and pondered. And then I lowered my wand entirely, my heart pounding in my ears as I struggled to breathe. “You know, Ellie, I’m not going to do it, and I’ll tell you why. You have brought me nothing but pain and torment and…HELL to me, but if I hex you right now, then I become just as much of a nasty, vile, disgusting piece of shit as you are, and I’m better that. I’m a much better person than you’ll ever be, and I won’t destroy myself over you.”

“You’re streets better, George,” Althea said encouragingly.

“That’s right, Snape,” Ellie sneered. “Stand up for this lunatic. You’re so stupid.”

Althea moved to retaliate, but seeing her father out of the corner of her eye, stopped before it was too late. I was proud of her. “See you on the train, bitch,” she sniped.

Jeremy laughed at that, as did a few others. I felt relieved the tension had been broken somewhat.

I took a deep breath and put my wand away, then turned on my heel, took Althea by the arm and strode away, back to the Great Hall to find Paige and run off to the Silver Room with her. It wasn’t a proud moment for me, even if I did resist the temptation to hex Ellie painfully. I felt somewhat ashamed of myself that she’d gotten to me so much, that I could no longer follow my own, strict advice. The sting of hypocrisy tore at me just a little, though I’ll admit, not enough to make me wish I’d done things differently. I think maybe I needed that moment. I needed to let go of all that venom in me—I was just lucky that Althea and Jeremy were there to keep me on the side of reason.

I suspect my father would have done the same thing.

* * * * *

To my surprise, Professor Snape never called me to his office to reprimand me or put me in detention, though he witnessed the latter part of the spectacle. Maybe he understood my anger. Maybe he felt my pain in some weird way. I’ll resist the urge to say he wanted me to go through with it—I know my cousin has his issues, but I can’t imagine he’d want a student to get killed, no matter who she is. Or maybe he didn’t want to see me get myself into terrible trouble just when I was on the brink of something truly great. Perspective can be a real lifesaver.

He also repaired the damage to the building I’d caused, and without a word. Severus Snape is quite a person.

“Believe me, George,” Althea said the next day at lunch, “a lot of people would have sided with you if you had hexed Ellie. And if the bitch happened to snuff it, oh well.”

Paige made a face. “You don’t really believe that, do you, Thea?”

Althea scowled. “Oh alright, I don’t want her to die. In fact, you’re right Malfoy. A permanent case of spattergroit might be a better sentence.”

We all laughed at that.

“So, you’re our boss starting in August, right, George?” Theo said grandly.

“You’re doing it?” Paige asked eagerly. “Abraxas is so excited for you!”

“How’s your sister?” Lydia asked Althea. “I mean, speaking of Abraxas.”

“She’s fine,” Althea replied. “She’s over the worst of morning sickness, so now it’s just getting her through the rest of the pregnancy.”

“Are they getting married?” Lydia asked.

Paige looked about surreptitiously. “Well, no one’s supposed to know, but they eloped a week ago. They didn’t even tell Daddy or Professor Snape!”

“Daddy didn’t want them getting married,” Althea added. “He’s got a thing about the whole marriage thing for some reason.”

“He’s married,” Lydia pointed out.

“Only because he was afraid Mum would die after she had me,” Althea replied. She ate a crisp and chased it with a long drink of lemonade. “Apparently she really did almost die.”

“It’s so weird how all our parents have all these secrets and all this history,” I mused. “I mean sometimes it would be nice if they’d clue us in a little.”

Tom jabbed me with his wand. “You’re just nosy.”

“I have to be nosy!” I protested. “It’s a professional requirement!”

“So what are you doing?” Nick asked.

“Well,” I replied, a little impatiently. It was hard to explain the arrangement. “I had to really think about it, because both opportunities are so perfect for me.”

Tom laughed. “So you’re going to be a Healer, right?”

I kicked him under the table. “Right. Can you imagine? A Healer who never passed First Year Potions? I’m taking the Ministry job, but not for a year. I’m letting Kingsley run things and get it all going, and in the meantime, I’m spending an intensive year with Tom McDowell studying public policy and civil rights law. And Kingsley is promising to take me to lots of parties.”

“Ooo! Partying down with the senior citizen set?” Althea quipped. “Sounds like a blast!”

“No, I mean, he’s going to hook me up with all the higher-ups.”

“I thought you already knew the higher-ups,” Nick pointed out.

“Our Dad knows the higher-ups,” Tom said. “We never got to go to those parties.”

“They were boring anyway,” Lydia said. “Well, they sound really boring. Politics and stories about the good old says? Eew.”

Actually, I sort of agreed with Lydia. I mean, I knew my job would be very important and that if I expected to become Minister for Magic, I had to hobnob with the rich and well-heeled and dull, but still. Then again, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe the addition of an eager eighteen year-old would bring a little life to the atmosphere, bring a little zing to the usual rut.

That thought made me laugh, I mean, me? Zing? I guess you never know.


	25. The Last Train Ride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _As I boarded the Hogwarts Express for the last time, I couldn’t help but feel almost reluctant, yet eager all the same. As much as I wanted to start my new life in politics and law, I still found myself clinging to the last vestiges of childhood like an old teddy bear. I made my way up and down the length of the train, making sure everyone was behaving themselves—I wanted to do a particularly good job that day, as this was to be my very last duty as Head Boy._
> 
> _When I finally joined Theo, Aidan, Nick, Tom, Paige and all our other friends in an overcrowded compartment at the far end of the train, I was exhausted. I leaned my tired head against Paige’s shoulder and shut my eyes for a moment—that is, until I heard a yelp from the corridor. Instinctively, I jumped up and dashed out to investigate, fully expecting to see Ellie on the receiving end of one of Althea’s nastier jinxes._
> 
> _But that’s not what I saw._

It felt so strange getting on the train at the end of June, knowing this was the very last time I’d make this journey, at least as a student. I remember my first train ride on the Hogwarts Express so clearly even now. Geez! I was so young, just a little kid with robes too big and a stomach full of nerves. That little boy would never have guessed how much he’d experience in a mere seven years at school.

I laugh a little at what a little worrywart I was back then…actually, I cringe at it, especially as I still have traces of my father’s intensity in me. Somehow he always managed to handle himself, whereas I internalised everything and jeopardised my own magic. It’s not like I’m totally perfect now or anything, because I’m not. I’m still tense, I still have my “George moments” that drive Paige crazy, though I’m not as bad these days. One thing I know for sure is that at eleven, I never foresaw my present state as an activist and potential lawyer.

Life was so confusing back then, so dark and uncertain. OK, so I’m still confused, but my purpose is a lot more clear these days. It’s nice to know I don’t have to leave my own world in order to have a normal life. It’s nice to know, too, that the Magically Challenged won’t have to leave either, that they’ll finally get at least a modicum of respect, whether they’re a Scrimgeour or a Jessup.

Everything that week was like a rite of passage. Our last exams, our last pillowfights in Slytherin, our last walks around the lake, our last feast in the Great Hall. I’d miss those meals a lot, considering my parents are gastronomically derelict and my sister still has another two years at school. As we all sat around the Hufflepuff table our last night at Hogwarts, I couldn’t help but feel a little wistful, even a little teary-eyed as I shoveled down Treacle Tart and Shepherd’s Pie—I drank water, not pumpkin juice. Looking up at the floating candles overhead, I sighed lightly.

“Sad?” Paige asked.

“Maybe a little.”

She squeezed my hand. “The whole world is out there, waiting for you.”

“I know. It’s weird. I never thought of how it would feel at this point, you know?”

Theo nodded, equally lost for words.

“So will you be back with Amber?” Tom asked.

Theo shrugged. “I’m not sure any more. I mean, if I do stay with her, I’ll have to tell her about the magical world, right?”

“I suppose,” I mused. “Do you think she’ll be okay with it?”

“Probably.” Theo chuckled. “As long as I’m not challenged in other areas.” Tom snorted.

Out of the corner of her eye, Althea spotted Ellie, sitting down at the Ravenclaw table with Malachi and a few of their friends. To my amazement, Althea didn’t move, didn’t snarl, didn’t say a word. That made me worry more than a little—I knew her too well to take her present attitude for genuine nonchalance. I wiahsed I were a Legilimens just then. But for now, on the other hand, it was the last day at Hogwarts, and I wasn’t going to let Althea’s curious mood take away from my experience.

That sense of finality followed me after dinner, all the way back to the Slytherin common room, and later, as Paige and I snogged for the last time in the Silver Room. It was our place now, but it would become someone else’s place in just a few months’ time—my heart broke just a little, already missing Paige fiercely.

“You’re quiet tonight,” she sighed, snuggling against me. I ran my fingertips down her bare arm, feeling the warmth of her soft skin. I kissed her lightly.

“Yeah,” I finally said.

“Home tomorrow.”

“Yep.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m great.”

“Are you scared?”

“Maybe a little. But I’m excited, too.” I wrapped my arms around her and held her close and warm. “It’s just all so big, you know, so…so real. It’s like all this time here was just a bubble, a fantasy. But now, life begins.”

* * * * *

Fortunately, I felt a lot better the next morning as I finished the last of my packing. My first thought was to take off my Head Boy badge and leave it on the desk, except that Professor Snape instructed Jane and me to keep them on until we got off the train in London.

“It’s yours to keep,” he told us that morning at our final meeting in his office. “We issue new ones every year.”

“Thank you, Professor,” Jane said.

Professor Snape sat back in his chair and eyed both of us carefully—as always, it was impossible to figure out what he was thinking, but I suspected that it was something good. I knew it wouldn’t be anything sentimental or emotional or anything. He doesn’t have it in him to express sentiment, even if he feels it deep down. Whatever.

“I am very proud of both of you this school year,” he continued smoothly. “You both behaved superbly under very difficult circumstances, and I wish to commend you for that. Miss Fowler, you exhibited fairness and justice throughout the year, and Mr. Weasley-Chacuer, you showed us that the path of moderation and even liberalism breeds respect.”

Gods he can be such a ponce! Can’t he speak English? But seriously, for my cousin, this was about as close to a big bear hug that he could reasonably manage. In truth, I was a little proud of him for not simply sending us of with a typical grunt. After a few more grandiose rhethoric on his part, he dismissed us with a few thanks and a good luck. Fortunately, he didn’t say “get out” to us.

But then he really threw me. Just as I reached the threshold of his door, he stopped me abruptly, calling me back.

“Miss Fowler, Mr. Weasley-Chaucer will catch you up in a moment,” he said stiffly.

Alone with him again. Couldn’t he give me a break in my very last few hours?

“Sir?” I asked.

He smirked. “Severus, please. George, you are no longer a student at this institution, so I think we can finally dispense with the formalities.”

It felt so strange as he said that. I was no longer a student. I had officially moved on. It was an amazing moment. My spine tingled.

“Sir…Severus, it’s been a great year,” I stammered.

“Oh that’s bullshit,” he said flatly. “It was a terrible year! Thank the gods you were Head Boy, though. George, you truly made a difference in what could have been a disastrous year here at Hogwarts. I’m truly proud of you.”

I blushed hotly. “I was mostly just a whipping boy, to be honest.”

“You were far more than that. You suffered terribly at the hands of your stellar colleagues, but the dignity and integrity you showed in the face of it has earned you tremendous respect from everyone, myself included.”

“I don’t know what to say, Severus.” I felt almost numb as he spoke. It was so rare for him to say anything remotely intimate, especially to me. He usually reserved that sort of stuff for my Dad. For the first time, strangely, it made me feel…grown up.

And then he really threw me. Before I could say anything more, Severus put his arms around me and pulled me close for a moment—what could I do but hug him back? I mean, even on a good day he wasn’t exactly the most effusive sort of person, so I figured he must have really meant it by being so uncharacteristically open with me just then. I couldn’t insult him by not returning the gesture, though perhaps thankfully, it only lasted for a few seconds. His aftershave smelled like my Dad’s.

“We’re having a big bash tomorrow night to celebrate,” I said awkwardly. “You all are coming, right?”

“It will be a historic moment,” he replied, returning to his usual formality. I waited for an explanation of that remark, but he offered none.

“Well, I’d better go, do the last of my Head Boy duties,” I said, starting towards the door.

He sat on the edge of his desk, smirking at me. “Tell my daughter not to do anything I wouldn’t do on that train ride back.”

I sniggered at that. “Right, sir…eh…Severus. See you tomorrow night! Say, I hope Nigel Brian is coming. He’s sort of responsible for all this crazy magic I can do now.”

“Too right you are, George, however, don’t be shocked…pardon the pun…if he takes entire credit for your current situation.”

I laughed. “Say, do you think I’ll ever become, you know, normal?”

Severus raised his eyebrows in apparent disgust. “I should hope not!”

* * * * *

Would I ever see Hogwarts again? Who knew? I hoped so, despite what I went through this past year, or maybe even because of it. As I boarded the Hogwarts Express for the last time, I couldn’t help but feel almost reluctant, yet eager all the same. As much as I wanted to start my new life in politics and law, I still found myself clinging to the last vestiges of childhood like an old teddy bear. I made my way up and down the length of the train, making sure everyone was behaving themselves—I wanted to do a particularly good job that day, as this was to be my very last duty as Head Boy. Somehow, I suspected that Jane felt the same way—she was just as vigilant as I was against any sort of bad behaviour.

So far, Althea didn’t go anywhere near Ellie, who lounged casually in a compartment with Malachi and a scant few other idiots, no doubt grousing or plotting some other form of torment. When I finally joined Theo, Aidan, Nick, Tom, Paige and all our other friends in an overcrowded compartment at the far end of the train, I was exhausted. I leaned my tired head against Paige’s shoulder and shut my eyes for a moment—that is, until I heard a yelp from the corridor. Instinctively, I jumped up and dashed out to investigate, fully expecting to see Ellie on the receiving end of one of Althea’s nastier jinxes.

But that’s not what I saw.

Rather, I found a pale Malachi cowering in one corner, and Jeremy Spinett standing over him, wand at the ready. On closer inspection, I saw fish gills forming around Malachi’s throat—his hands were turning into fins.

“Jeremy,” I demanded, “put him right this instant!”

Jeremy shook like a leaf from head to toe. “No!” he cried out. “This toad was responsible for the attack on me in London! He doesn’t deserve anything other than…”

“Jeremy!” I shouted. “Put him right! If you don’t you’ll kill him! It’s not worth it!”

“After what he did to you? After what he did to so many others?”

“Stop it, Jeremy!” Tom cried out. “Let him go! He’s an idiot!”

“Please, Jeremy,” I said, softer now. Malachi was now gasping and choking, nearly unable to breathe as the gills got bigger and the fins grew up his arms by now. It was either get him into water or put him right.

“Doing this won’t solve anything,” Tom said. “Baby, please. Put him right.”

Tears streamed down Jeremy’s white face. He shut his eyes for a moment, and finally relented. With a quick wave of his wand, the gills disappeared and Malachi’s hands returned to normal.

All I could do was glare at the stupid prat, still cowering on the floor. “Get up, Zabini!” I spat. “Go on, get the hell up!” Shakily, Malachi rose, a mixture of pain and humiliation and fury in his troubled eyes.

“Go on, get out of here,” Tom said. “Take off!”

Without another word, Malachi turned with an indignant sniff and wobbled through the door, disappearing into the next car of the train. Tom quickly ran to Jeremy, who was still quaking from the whole incident. He slipped an arm around Jeremy’s waist and ushered him into our compartment.

“What the hell was that all about?” Tom asked hotly.

“I found out,” Jeremy replied quietly. “He…he was bragging about it to Mulciber!”

“Good gods,” I murmured.

“They seemed to think he’d done a great service,” Jeremy continued. “Him and Caldwell and Dorsett. Bastards.”

“And they modified your memory?” Paige asked, troubled by the story.

Jeremy sniffled. “The only reason I know they did it was because I heard them talking. I still have no memory of it.”

I thought Althea would jump up and dash out, ready to give Malachi a piece of her mind, or at least a good punch. To my surprise, therefore, she remained where she was, suddenly pensive and silent, just like her father.

Paige smiled. “Jeremy, don’t worry about Zabini. My father and Althea’s have enough dirt on his family to make his life a living hell for a very long time. They’ll make very good use of it, I’m positive.”

I laughed. “They would do that?” There I go again. Mr. Ideologue.

Althea winked at me. “Daddy has his own way, and so does Paige’s. Say, George, do you think your father would object if I got drunk off my arse at your party tomorrow?”

“Wouldn’t YOUR father object?” Paige asked with a laugh.

“Probably. Then again…well…I do tend to get my way, don’t I?”

“Somehow, I think even your father would stop short of allowing his daughter to get plastered off her arse in public!” I replied. “And besides, you don’t want to upset your older brother, do you?”

Althea laughed loud and long. “My brother? Oh George! You’re priceless!”

“Say, has Nigel Brian noticed girls yet?” Paige asked with a snort.

“I’m not sure he’s aware of the existence of either gender!” Althea replied.

We spent the rest of the train ride laughing, telling jokes, pulling stupid pranks and making lots of summer plans to get together. Naturally, Paige offered Malfoy Manor as a meeting place—who were we to say no? After all, it’s the most ostentatiously opulent place in the entire wizarding world, at least as far as I’m concerned. This was going to be a great summer.

Of course, there was a big party to attend first—my party. Mum and Dad spared no expense in making it the most outrageous, fun, out of control parties the Weasley-Chaucers had ever had. Food from one of the best caterers in London, music provided by some of Mr. Malfoy’s friends, and lots and lots of guests of all ages. Lots of Minstry people attended, and most of them wanted to talk to me for some reason. OK, so it was all politics and planning and tactics, but the more I talked, the more comfortable I felt. I was ready for anything.

I love youthful hubris. It’s so comforting somehow. It gives me hope for myself.

Nigel Brian Snape attended the party to my mild surprise—he looked about the same, and of course, made no secret of what he termed his crucial role in my transformation. It was all Severus could do to prevent himself from throwing up all over his only son as Nigel Brian went on and on about electrical currents and the parallels with magical energy. Honestly! Nigel Brian was even driving my Dad crazy!

Finally, I’d had enough, so I excused myself to go out for some air. I didn’t see Freddy anywhere, so I assumed he was up to no good with Sasha or something. Abraxas and Aurora unfortunately couldn’t make it to the party—Aurora was pretty close to delivering and her very nervous husband was busy hovering over her, seeing to her every need. I can only hope Aurora milked it for all it was worth. After all, she is a Snape, so I’m sure she made the situation work to her advantage.

Soon, I was joined not by Paige, but by Althea, looking very mischievous. She kicked my backside and laughed.

“What?” I said, somewhat confused by her behaviour.

“I have a confession,” she said quietly. “If Daddy ever found out, I think he’d actually get angry with me.”

“What? This isn’t about you and Aidan, is it? You’re not…”

“No! I’m not pregnant, George!” She giggled. “I’m a lot more careful than my sister. I wonder how Malachi Zabini is doing.”

“Recovered from the gills, I expect.”

Althea breathed in the night air, flipping back her black hair dramatically as she tipped her face upward towards the stars. She laughed. “Strange that Jeremy should find out who bashed him.”

“I wondered about that, too,” I replied. But then… “Thea, how exactly did Jeremy find out?”

She shrugged diffidently. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe an invisible little bird told him.”

“No! And how did this invisible little bird become invisible?” I asked suspiciously.

“Ask Jane Fowler.” Althea kissed me on the cheek. “See you inside, George.” And with that, she sashayed back to the party, leaving me to wonder. Gods! I really love Althea Snape! She is truly her father’s daughter, but somehow…I don’t know. She has a way of making everything alright, making the world a little more just. Amazing witch.

Her father might just be even more amazing, though. No sooner had I reentered the party that I was instantly pulled into the dining room by Lydia and placed at the head of the table, which was sky high with all sorts of gifts. I secretly wondered whether Mr. Malfoy would be passing on another million Galleons to me, but I decided not to hold out any such hopes for that.

Mum kissed me on the cheek. “Go on, George! Open them!”

The gifts were an array of everything from quill and ink sets to gift cards to Madame Malkin’s to books on the law, a political history of magic and a biography of Albus Dumbledore. Mum and Dad gave me a solid gold watch, which I think was made by muggle jewelers—I was pretty sure Rolex was a muggle brand—and Tom gave me a silver pendant with the Slytherin crest on the front and all our names on the back.

“So you think of me and Lydia when you’re off saving the world and we’re still stuck at school,” Tom said with a grin.

“Thanks, bro.”

Just then, Severus approached, bearing a small jade bottle that was tied with a silver string. Placing the bottle in his palm, he stretched out his arm towards me, beckoning me to take it. The bottle felt strangely warm in my hand.

“What is it?” I asked. Frankly, I was more than a little nervous about what Severus Snape could give to me from a mysterious bottle.

“It’s a potion, obviously.”

Obviously.

“What’s it for?”

“It’s a little invention of mine. Your father’s not the only potions master in the family, after all,” he replied acerbically.

“Wanna bet?” Dad said with a snigger.

Severus rolled his eyes at him, then returned his attention to me. “The core ingredient of the potion is three drops of vampire blood, legally collected of course.”

“Why do I want to drink vampire blood?” I asked. Mum looked equally concerned.

“This potion will stay in your system for exactly one year, and in that time, it will work with your body to channel your magic in a more controlled way.”

“But that’s what I’ve been working on all year!” I protested. Suddenly, forty dozen vases of wildflowers appeared. I blushed as a butterfly fluttered overhead.

Severus vanished them with a flick of his wand. “You are going to be very busy from now on, George, so you won’t have the time to focus on control as you did at school. This potion does it for you, and in a year’s time, it will become second nature to you.”

“Wow,” Dad blurted out. “Why didn’t I come up with that?”

Severus smirked at him. “Oh, I don’t know. Too busy sending Howlers and ruling St. Mungo’s with an iron fist.”

“Very funny, Severus,” Dad replied sourly. “But seriously, you and I are going to have to sit down over that one! Why didn’t you share your idea with me?” He sounded a little offended.

“Oh grow up, Nigel,” Severus groused. “By the way, George, it tastes nothing like pumpkin juice. And it won’t interfere with your Lethargis, either. In fact, it might enhance the Lethargis just a little, so you might need to take a bit less of that.”

I laughed at that. “Oh I don’t know, Severus. Considering my new job in August, I might need even more!”

“So when does he take it?” Tom asked, leaning over my shoulder to take a closer look at the bottle. “Why is it in Jade, sir?”

“The mineral composition of jade enhances the overall effects of the potion,” Dad replied, almost unconsciously. When Severus glared at him, Dad blushed. “Sorry, Severus.”

“Know-it-all,” Severus grumbled. “However, the Great Nigel Chaucer is quite correct, George.”

“Go on, then, George! Chug it!” Tom crowed, ignoring Severus’ look of indignation at the concept of chugging. Althea laughed.

I uncorked the bottle—the potion’s soft citrusy scent wafted upward, tickling my nose. “Well, here goes,” I said, raising the bottle.

“Drink it quickly,” Severus coached me. “It will be very piquant, but the taste is rather pleasant.”

One-two-three and…down it went! I don’t know why I felt scared for a split second. The memory of that torture potion was fresher in my memory than I was willing to admit, I expect. However, that brief crash of fear quickly ebbed as the sensation of complete focus and power overcame my whole body. I smiled broadly.

“That was amazing,” I finally said.

“So you think it’ll work?” Mum asked.

“Oh yeah. It’s perfect.”


	26. Epilogue: Slyndor Abbey

It was unbelievable! That potion was truly a life-saver! The moment I started up my position with Tom McDowell, life got very busy very fast. I spent so much time reading, writing legal briefs and learning every facet of the legal profession, so that by the time that apprentice year ended, I had barely noticed. What I did notice, however, was that my magic had changed as dramatically as I had. No more raining chickens or making the entire contents of the refrigerator disappear. No more multiple glasses of orange juice or unexpected banks of flowers, either. Severus was right, yet again.

By the time I turned nineteen, my confidence had grown exponentially, and suddenly, I could see beyond the law and the Department of Human Development. I wanted more. Now don’t get me wrong or anything—I wasn’t just out for power or anything like that, though I’ll be the first to admit that having authority does change things in life. At school I sort of joked about becoming Minister for Magic, but as I moved into my position at the Ministry, I saw that this was something I truly wanted to become.

Usually, the best candidate for public office is the person who doesn’t want it. That’s why so many love my father and why so many loved Albus Dumbledore. They wanted to work for the greater good, but without titles or honours. But did that make me different? It’s just that I could start to see how the office of Minister could also be used for the greater good. Sure, past Ministers used their office for personal power, but on the other hand, it didn’t have to be like that all the time. Having the ability to change the law and to change policy at the very highest levels appealed to me because I saw it as the best way to achieve true equality for all in our world.

All I could hope for was that the rest of the wizarding world would let me in.

* * * * *

Some people never change. No matter what we’ve been through, most of us end up reverting to our old ways and mindsets. When I discovered that quality in myself, my first reaction was intense disappointment. In all the years since I left school, I always sort of prided myself on being open to change, on never holding a grudge, always with the belief that it’s better to rise above a situation than to be dragged down by negativity.

I have a lot of people to thank for that—my father, Severus, Kingsley, my wife, even my kids. The moment I became a father nearly seven years ago, I totally understood my own father. I understood all his worries, his freakouts, that constant desire to hover over my four children like a Dementor.

Despite growth, success, a new position on the horizon, I still find some of that old resentment bubbling up in me. It’s just…I never really fully recovered from being poisoned all those years ago. There are times when I can still feel that searing, brain-numbing pain tear through me, and it’s in those moments of sheer weakness that I question myself most severely. There I am, seventeen years old all over again, writhing and shrieking in agony on the floor, then lying helpless and beaten by Mulciber, Avery and Dolohov. I know it’s unfair, but I can’t help but to rebuke myself sharply for still feeling the impact of those terrible events.

At the same time, I know that in a real way, those events are a source of strength for me. When I’m at my very worst, stressing over the smallest thing, I can look at myself and manage to say that I survived. And what’s more, I survived with my dignity intact. Paige has been a real champ when it comes to knocking me out of my blackest moods, though it’s not always so easy. See, when you marry a Chaucer like me, you get a lot of angst along with everything else. Mum says I’m worse than my father.

Take the other day for example. I was poking around in Flourish and Blotts, looking for a book of bedtime stories for Philippa, our eldest. She’s turning seven, and even now, unless we tell her a good story, she can’t sleep a wink. Like our other three, she’s got the trademark white blonde Malfoy hair, but she’s got my mother’s features and an impish Weasley personality. Philippa keeps us on our toes. So anyway, just as I turned to head for the cash register, I saw Ellie Gray at a far distance, flipping through a book on dating and finding the perfect wizard.

Why was I not shocked that she was single? Now don’t get me wrong, I mean, it’s not that being single is a bad thing. Some people like my brother remain single for specific reasons, whether they be moral or philosophical or ideological—I’m actually impressed that Tom has chosen to keep his purity intact. Mr. Malfoy likes to take the mickey out of Tom sometimes, which is sometimes funny and sometimes really awkward. Despite the teasing, Tom has remained true to himself. I don’t know if he’ll change that choice—maybe if he finds the right person. He and Xander tried to make it work, but Xander wasn’t quite willing to make the same sacrifices that Tom insisted on—but at least they’ve remained close friends.

Anyway, some people are just picky and can’t ever find that perfect person, and so they remain single for a long time, even forever. But people like Ellie…well, no comment.

In truth, I had no idea how Ellie was these days. After I left Hogwarts, I got quickly involved with my study of the law with Tom McDowell, and then I got absorbed in my post at the Ministry—the Department of Human Development had made some very radical changes very quickly, and though there was a lot of resistance to it at first, it became my new job to explain the changes to people. After about five years of that, things eased up somewhat, though most people still reverted to the old way of thinking.

See what I mean about change? But I have to apply that to myself. The second I laid eyes on Ellie, I saw myself back in that corridor outside the Library, blasting walls, threatening violence and death. I could still feel that same chill run up my spine, and I almost started in new rage. I prayed that Ellie wouldn’t see me, that she’d put the book down and leave the store altogether, blissfully unaware of my presence.

But she didn’t leave. In fact, she set the book down, and looked straight at me—her eyes narrowed menacingly. Amazingly, she looked much the same, though she got rid of the dyed black hair and went back to her natural blonde. It made her look softer, more approachable. Did I dare?

Ellie took one look at me and scowled. I decided to be the bigger person and approached her, pretending to be friendly.

“So, long time no see,” I said lightly. My hands trembled behind my back.

“Fourteen years,” she replied. “So I guess my theory is true about you. You really are a pampered, privileged prat.” Unbelievable.

Perplexed by her invective, all I could do was just take a step back. “Yeah, well it’s nice to see you, too, Ellie. Maybe one day you’ll grow up.” I moved past her towards the register, plunking down my purchase.

Unfortunately, Ellie decided to follow me, as if we were back in school all over again. “Yeah, well I guess you got to be Minister for Magic the same way you got to be Head Boy. Nepotism, cronyism…”

“Ellie…” Gods! Were we sixteen all over again?

“How else could it happen? Who becomes Minister for Magic at age thirty-two? Oh! Only the princely son of the ever so wonderful and perfect Nigel Weasley-Chaucer! Who becomes a Ministry Department head at twenty-five? Who the hell else? The favourite son of the man who can do no bloody wrong!”

I really wanted to lay into her, really give it to her in front of everyone, but on the other hand, she was doing a fine job of embarrassing herself. Why interfere? I took my change from the cashier, then turned back towards Ellie, at a loss for what to say.

“Look, Ellie,” I started. “Honestly, I don’t know what to say to you. Obviously you haven’t gotten beyond what went down when we were at school, but seriously, I hope you do. I really hope that you’ll find happiness and peace, because that’s what’s important.”

“Oh please, George!” she snapped. “That’s easy for you to say! You never had to work for anything in your damn life!” Her voice was rising like a tempest.

The temptation was painful. Just the slightest thought and any number of terrible things could happen, I remembered. But no. That would be wrong. Damn satisfying, but wrong. I mustered a half grin, and I even dared to pat her on the shoulder. She flinched away as if I’d hit her with a stinging spell or something.

“Hey look,” I said, “you know, we once meant a lot to each other. We once made each other very happy. Let’s remember that and put all the other ugliness behind us, alright? There’s no point in dwelling on such terrible things.”

But Ellie only grunted with disgust. “Fuck you, Minister.” And with that, she stormed out of the store. I never saw her again.

* * * * *

After we had Philippa, Paige and I made the controversial decision to move into Malfoy Manor. I know it sounds really strange, a full-grown married man moving in with his father-in-law, but we had our reasons. In truth, Mr. Malfoy wasn’t too well these days. Years of hard living and too much drinking and smoking had compromised his health, and Paige was worried that he was too much for Greta, his wife, to handle on her own. With Andromeda out of the house and with Abraxas and Aurora going on their eighth child, Greta was extremely busy.

And plus, I really loved the estate. It’s not just that the house is the most massive, most obscenely opulent place I’ve ever been to in my life, though that’s part of the enticement, I’ll admit. But I also spent some of the best days of my boyhood there, romping down the hills and across the green lawns, chasing after Freddy and Abraxas—we swam in the lake, fished, played hide-and-go-seek in Mr. Malfoy’s rooms, got into all sorts of trouble in that magical place.

“I think we should change the name,” Mr. Malfoy announced at dinner that same night. 

It was just a few close friends, the Snapes, Tom and Xander, Nick and a very pregnant Jane, Theo and Amber, and others. The collective mass of children played in the library, probably tearing up the place. Philippa was probably leading the charge.

“You’re not serious, are you?” Dad asked, aghast at the suggestion. “It’s always been Malfoy Manor.”

“What about your mother?” Mum asked. “What would she think?”

“Oh please! Mum died ages ago,” Mr. Malfoy replied impatiently. “I’m not long for this world, you know, and Abraxas isn’t interested in the place. He’s off doing his socialist rejection of the material world thing, so I wanted to hand it to someone who really appreciates it for what it is. But it doesn’t have to be called Malfoy Manor any more. I think it needs a new identity.”

“What do you want to call it, Daddy?” Paige asked. She frowned at our youngest, Draco, who dashed in, in full pursuit of his brother, Frank, and threw a cooked carrot at him. Even though Draco is barely two, he managed to get Frank square in the back of the head, which made my father and me laugh—but my mother wore the same scowl as Paige did.

“Philippa!” Mr. Malfoy called out. “Come rescue us from these monsters!” But then he looked at his grandsons and smirked. “Maybe this place should be called The Zoo.” We all laughed at that. “Look, baby, I’ll leave it to you and Weaselby-Chaucer to figure out, though I want an answer now.”

“Right now?” I exclaimed. Even at his age, Mr. Malfoy hadn’t ceased to be a pushy bastard.

Mr. Malfoy sneered at me. “Oh come on, George, get over it! You’re Minister for bloody Magic as of next week, so surely you can manage a name?”

Tom laughed. “Just don’t call it the Winter Palace! You don’t want to give haters any ammunition. It’s bad enough when the _Daily Prophet_ is already calling George a tsar.”

Severus rolled his eyes. “Those mental midgets don’t even know what a tsar is,” he grumbled.

“How about Avalon?” Lydia suggested.

Mr. Malfoy made a face. “Isn’t that where you go after you die?”

“It’s like paradise,” Lydia replied. Her boyfriend nodded eagerly. She had him wrapped around her little finger.

“Oh! I know!” Tom piped up. “Slyndor Abbey!”

I crinkled my nose at that. “Slyndor Abbey? What’s that all about?”

“You know, you’re a Slytherin, Paige is a Gryffindor,” Tom explained. “It’s perfect!”

Actually, it was pretty good, but… “Why Abbey?” I asked.

Tom shrugged. “Dunno. These sorts of places are either Hall or Manor or Abbey or something. Abbey just sounds interesting.”

He had a point.

“Welcome to Slyndor Abbey,” Paige crowed, raising her wine glass in a mock toast. Her father raised his glass as well. Philippa escorted her two brothers out of the room, and when we all heard the crash of glass, we laughed.

“That was Frank,” Paige said, rolling her eyes.

“I’ll go,” Mum said, quickly getting up and scurrying out to rescue the rest of the Malfoy treasures.

In the meantime, the rest of us drank to this new identity, all of us trying to wrap our collective heads around the notion of Slyndor Abbey, haven of open-mindedness and progressive politics. Go figure.

* * * * *

Years ago, Albus Dumbledore had been asked many times to assume the role of Minister for Magic, and over and over he continued to turn down the offer. After my grandfather served briefly as Minister, the Ministry decided to change the way someone took the post, and that’s when they started letting witches and wizards…and now Squibs…vote for their candidate.

Campaigning is tough. We have only a month to campaign all over Britain, and though we don’t have the benefit of muggle television, we can at least be assured that our appearances around the country would be broadcast on the Wizarding Wireless Network. Some days I took Paige and Philippa with me, but not always. After all, Paige is just about as busy as I am. My two opponents were formidable, actually, and it came as a bit of a shock when I actually won the election. Both of them used pretty harsh tactics against me, claiming the same thing Ellie did, that I was merely creating a dynasty and that I was only out for power. Then again, they had virtually nothing to offer other than that they were older and worked for the Ministry for a billion years or something. Whatever.

In the end, I campaigned on experience, since I’d been in the Ministry for a pretty long time, despite my age. I promised to further my first campaign for the Magically Challenged, promising to create new avenues of communication between average witches and wizards and the Ministry. I’m actually pretty impressed with how some muggle governments work and how they try to include the _vox populi_ , and I figure that if wizarding society is ever going to emerge from the past, we need to do something similar.

I guess that worked pretty well—people like to feel included and involved, and if government can bring in more voices and more ideas, then we’re all better off. The big payoff was that I got over 70% of the vote. I was actually gobsmacked by the result, to be honest, but I guess it goes to show that age isn’t everything. Dad was so proud that I that I thought his head might explode—Mum just cried and hugged me and hugged Paige and the kids and Freddy and Dad and me again. Let’s just say she was pretty excited.

I made Theo my Undersecretary, the first Squib to hold the post. It was a proud moment. And that Theo’s wife is a muggle made me even prouder. I know the future won’t be perfect and that I’ll have a lot of hurdles to jump as Minister, but I’m completely ready to just dive in and get my hands dirty and make some good things happen. Paige is a little worried, but then again, so am I. After all, who would I be if I didn’t worry just a little? Thank the gods Dad’s Lethargis potion still works like a charm. I have a feeling I’m going to need a fair amount of it in future.

* * * * *

We hadn’t done this in a while, not since Draco was conceived, but as my life was going to get even busier than ever tomorrow, Paige and I decided to take advantage of the sweet time of night. Hand in hand, we strolled softly out to the sparkling lake, taking in the warm summer air as we meandered along, not saying much. Every now and again she’d stroke my arm or I’d nuzzle my head against hers, but otherwise, we both preferred to remain silent and contemplative. A white owl flew overhead, breaking the smooth glass of the night’s quiet. Paige smiled.

“You nervous about tomorrow?” she asked.

“A little,” I confessed. “OK, a lot.”

“This is what you wanted, all along.”

“I know. I just hope I’m up for the job.”

Paige laughed. “I just hope they’re ready for you.”

I smirked. “I guess I can be a little intense.”

“Oh, maybe just a smidge,” she joked. “But that’s why I married you.”

“Oh! So you didn’t marry me just for sex?”

Paige laughed again. “Well, that, too, oh, and let us not forget that you look just like your father!”

I rolled my eyes at that. “Gods, you sound like Ellie!” I joked. “I ran into her not so long ago.”

“You never told me that! So is she an old hag yet? Please tell me she’s got wrinkles and purple spots all over her face!”

I laughed. “Nah! Actually, she looked alright. About the same as ever.”

“Ugly? Nasty? Cold-hearted?”

I shrugged. “As I said, about the same as ever. Sad, though.”

“You’re too nice,” Paige replied. “You always were. You shouldn’t have made those bats disappear.”

I laughed at that. “Maybe. But to think that she didn’t change even a little! It was like we were bickering outside the Great Hall all over again! Incredible. I wonder what ever happened to Malachi.”

“Maybe he’s in prison with Mulciber. Who the bloody hell cares?” Paige asked flippantly. But then she smiled seductively. 

I love it when she gets that look on her face, though it usually ends up with us having another child. She kissed me tenderly, longingly, so smoothly like silk, tracing the tip of my tongue with hers, and before I knew it I was totally caught up in her soft touch and her roving hands. This time we made love right there by the lakeside—well, behind a privet. Don’t want the kids or Mr. Malfoy catching us like that. We lost ourselves in each other, explored each other intimately, caressed and kissed and moved together as one body.

A while later, Paige and I strolled back to the main house, making plans to visit Althea and Aidan and their new baby before we went to Jane and Nick’s tenth anniversary party. Travel would have to be carefully orchestrated these days, and it would demand a pretty tight security detail no matter what. But I wasn’t going to let my new job slow me down or keep me from my old friends. And so, I left all troubling thoughts of Ellie and poison and torture behind, replaced by more pleasant thoughts of my lovely wife, my growing family, the incongruous pairing of Nigel Brian Snape and some unnamed witch from the Department of Mysteries, and very soon, the entrance of my youngest brother, Will, into the Healer training program at St. Mungo’s. That made two Healers in the family, plus Dad.

As for my brother, Tom, he and Lydia decided to unite his business sense and salesmanship with her culinary genius, and after only three years post Hogwarts, they were running the hippest, most delicious bistro in Diagon Alley. Xander worked with them as well, making it a real family affair—Xander’s two girls, and sometimes Doug, his partner, helped out in the kitchen sometimes, which was always fun. In fact, they all promised us a massive feast after my first day as Minister—only the finest, or so Lydia promised. She even offered to feed the security detail.

As I said before, I’m a real survivor, internal scars and all. But as I learned from Mr. Potter and from my father, sometimes scars are marks of strength, even badges of honour. In the end, I discovered, justice really does win out, though sometimes you have to work for it and even suffer for it. As much as I suffered in the past, especially that terrible year at school, I have to look at the outcome of all that pain. Both Dad and Severus insist that pain is the secret of compassion—in order to understand someone else, you need to be put through sheer hell first, and if you survive, you’re that much stronger.

Muggle poet Dante Alighieri posited in his _Divine Comedy_ that the only way to Beatrice, or perfect love, is to sink into the deepest circles of hell first, then struggle upward to purgation and a healthy dose of self-deprecation and bald truth before you can rise to the light of beatitude and find true rest and peace. I might not be at that point just yet, but maybe seeing Ellie again has given me a little push upward. After all, I could have done terrible things to her, and that I didn’t gave me the confidence I needed to tackle the next stage of my crazy life.

I can’t wait for tomorrow.


End file.
